Operation Esther
by SMKLegacy
Summary: COMPLETE: When a terrorist group threatens to destroy Israel from the ground up, Amanda's college lab partner and an old rival of Francine's join The Agency team to stop the terrorist before a religious festival begins.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I've taken a few liberties with the coincidence of the Jewish calendar with the secular calendar for 1989. Purim is a wonderful festival that celebrates the bravery of one young woman and her uncle in stopping what would have been genocide; please read the Book of Esther in the Bible to learn more of the story.

  
  


**Prologue * The Middle East * Early November, 1988**

Ali, we need this man gone and soon. How much more time do you need? The gruff voice over the telephone had icicles in its mellifluous Arabic, even though the temperature on each end of the line was well over 80 degrees Fahrenheit. 

It isn't as easy as that, my friend, the man named Ali replied in the same language with less worry than he felt. The Gardener has been very hard to approach since the idiot Lebanese assassinated his bodyguard instead of him.

I thought the Lebanese wanted to keep him, not kill him. Be that as it may, there must be something we can do.

Ali laughed, a surprisingly pleasant sound from a man with as mean a spirit as his. There are many things we can do, Samir. It becomes the question as to what we should do to take revenge for Adi and bring the Americans to their knees. We have not had much luck in America. Perhaps we would do well to be somewhere else this time.

And where... the voice trailed with insinuation.

And where? That is the easy part. Ali nodded in unseen satisfaction toward the faded map of Palestine that hung over his desk in an office building in Baghdad.

Would it not be a great thing to present to the Ayatollah that he is rid of two minor Satans and seen major damage to the Great Satan at the same time?

As you say. The value to our cause – the one the unfortunate disagreement between our countries has disrupted for far too long – could be incalculable were we to manage all of these things at once.

Eyes narrowed in a face lined by years of desert winds and sun, Samir sat down on his prayer rug in Tehran and stared up at the south wall, where he, too, had hung a map of Palestine many years ago. How many make he mused to his conspirator in Iraq.

Perhaps one third of the population of Tel Aviv, Ali stated flatly. There will, of course, be some martyrs – that is inescapable. But so much the better that it have the appearance of an accident – or a series that comes quickly, so that there is more chance for delay in the diagnosis and treatment of the problem. He smiled as a thought crossed his mind. And I think I know exactly how to do it...

Silence ensued for a short time after Ali finished his outline as the implications of the embryonic plan fully impacted the man in Iran. I like this idea, he said finally. We still have the necessary items, since Adi and his group did not have the chance to use them before his capture. As for the other possibility: How good is your information from Texas? Will it really do all the papers say it has done?

Ali laughed in his strangely Iraqi way. My information from Texas is from a source only one level removed from its genesis. In a place no one could ever think to suspect. And as soon as the scientists have replicated it, we will have it for our arsenal.

Beware the Great Satan. He has devilish ways of finding things out that we never wish him to, Samir warned. But let us go forward with the planning. When do you think you will be ready?

At their festival of Purim. We can target one of the large gatherings very easily. It is just at the time the American government will change hands, and there will be confusion in Washington. More people will die and the Gardener will not have time to gather as much security as the government likes him to have when he travels abroad. We can have plans for with and without the Texas factor.

Very thorough, Ali. Be very careful as you go forward.

Rest assured, I will do that. I will be out of touch for a short time. Inshallah, we won't need to do this any more.

  
  


**Chapter 1* Washington D.C. * January 20, 1989 * 9:15 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  
  


Washington D.C. radiated beauty that Thursday night when the world's eyes turned upon it to witness the still slightly unbelievable peaceful transfer of power from one man to another with popular consent. Snow had fallen that morning, ending just before the Inaugural ceremonies began at noon. Festive lights from the city's holiday celebrations still decorated the trees and many of the elegant facades along the stately avenues, casting their brilliant multicolored sheen across the expanses of white, glistening lawns and parks. Even the limousines and sedans crawling along those avenues, decorated as they were with national and state flags and many with bunting and signs besides, added joy to the evening as they wound their way to any of the 11 official Inaugural Balls marking the beginning of the George Bush Administration after 8 years of Ronald Reagan's leadership.

One of those balls was just getting into second gear at the British Embassy, where the new President and his First Lady were due to appear at 11:15, about two hours from the moment that Billy Melrose finally let his best team of agents off of door duty.

Billy, this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Jeannie just slipped in, would it? Lee Stetson asked with a gleeful smile as he reached for his own wife's hand.

His Section Chief kept his face perfectly straight when he replied, just loud enough for the three agents around him to hear. Given a choice between Francine and your wife, Scarecrow, who would you choose?

Francine Desmond had the grace to laugh along with Billy, Lee, and Lee's wife and partner, Amanda. Somehow, in the past five years, she'd gotten better at taking the ribbing that so naturally came her way from Billy and Lee – and, for that matter, many of the other agents who made the staff of their organization, known only as The Agency – as a sign of affection rather than one of dislike. If you put the question like that, Billy, I'd have to send you to Dr. Pfaff if you _didn't_ choose your wife. She looked at the beautiful couple across from her just inside the formal entryway of the embassy. Better, still, at giving that ribbing back. Lee, on the other hand... From the dark look that crossed Lee's face, Francine knew she'd toed the line just a bit too finely.

...Wouldn't chose you over Jeannie, either, Amanda piped up, sensing in her husband's grip the tension Francine's comment brought.

Since Amanda so rarely participated in the ribbing actively, her riposte had a triple effect. One, it left Francine standing with her mouth three-quarters to the floor, her large blue eyes wide with the shock of an attack from that unexpected corner. Two, it made Billy and Lee both howl with laughter, bringing whispered commentary from guests passing by. Three, it made Melrose and his people extremely easy to find in the crowded hall.

You know, for people who prefer to work undercover, laughing like that is awfully conspicuous, Jeannie Melrose said from behind her husband's back as the laughter began to drop a few decibels. She stepped up into the small circle of friends and draped an arm around Billy's shoulders. Or is this some new technique designed to make you look less like spies?

Are you sure you're not really an agent too? Billy asked with unmistakable love in his voice, kissing her briefly on her full, plum lips.

I ought to be, after all these years. She greeted Lee with a kiss on his cheek, Francine with a hug, and Amanda with a that caused almost as much commotion as the laughter a few moments before. Girl, you just keep getting more beautiful everyday. What's your secret?

Amanda blushed prettily and kissed Jeannie's cheek. The love of a good man, same as yours, she said, smoothing the front of her shimmering emerald taffeta and velvet gown self-consciously, then reaching up to play with her heart pendant in her signature I'm flustered move.

Francine rolled her eyes and sighed, annoyed at the sap flowing from the two very happily married couples. And, she admitted, envious, as she saw her escort for the evening present his invitation to the agent now working the non-diplomatic line. Yet another blandly handsome face in a long line of nobodies, broken only by Jonathan – and that had gotten her precisely nowhere, not to mention almost killed more then once. The momentary panic she felt at not being able to recall her date's name faded as she put on her game face and bid her coworkers a truly heartfelt, Later, my friends. Stepping out into the main flow of traffic, her cobalt blue, rhinestone-accented formal clinging in all the right places, Francine hailed him: Larry, how nice to see you!

Jeannie laughed with the others, but turned thoughtful as she watched the automaton-like way Francine walked off with her date. Do you suppose that there really is a man out there for her? Like Billy for me or Lee for you, Amanda?

Oh, I'm sure there is, Mrs. Melrose, Amanda replied in her softly lilting voice. He probably lives in Outer Mongolia in a monastery...

Mrs. Stetson, I think you need to come with me to get some food. You are positively vicious tonight, Lee chuckled, knowing that her mood had as much to do with a fight she'd had with Philip after school as with anything Francine actually said or with hunger.

Not until I've stopped laughing can you walk away with your wife, Lee. I need to convince her to call me Jeannie.

While you're at it, dear, her husband grumbled in his best imitation of an irritated teddy bear, convince her to call me Billy, would you please?

The four friends made their way casually to the buffet line, relaxed for the moment but aware, even the non-agent, of the possible dangers lurking on a night like this one.

  
  


**The Inaugural Ball * 10:30 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  
  


Dr. Forest, I understand that you've recently made a breakthrough toward reclaiming land poisoned by cobalt and sulfides, the Indian Ambassador to the United States said to a tall, thin, professorial man at the punch bowl as the entire diplomatic corps of Washington swirled around the food and drink-laden tables.

Unnoticed by either man, the woman with Dr. Forest scowled at the Ambassador's words. Washington, she had known since she was a small child living with her parents at Los Alamos, leaked like a sieve. But even Washington should be able to keep some things secret – like the work of Birchwood Andrew Forest, Ph.D. and genuine National Strategic Asset, until it could be reviewed for further, less benign objectives than the ones for which he developed his formulas.

Well, it wouldn't be anyone else, Dr. Forest replied to the official, unconsciously condescending. You really should read the paper in last month's _Nature_ to get the basics before you ask for more details.

This time, they did notice her, but only because the scowl became a bright, dimpled smile that lit her face and made her soft green eyes glow golden. Birch, I'm sure the ambassador has more important things to do than read _Nature_. Have one of your scientific staff read this month's issue of _BioChem Review_ and give you a synopsis, Ambassador. You'll be much happier and get more information accurately if you let an expert digest it. Trust me. I typed the manuscript. It was the truth – but more importantly it was the coded way to let Dr. Forest know he'd been rude to an important person yet again. When she called him Birch, Andy Forest was supposed to know that he needed to come down to earth. The woman sighed inwardly, knowing that as frustrating as he could be sometimes, she wouldn't trade her job for anything.

He thought he had done a pretty good job of staying on the planet, but even when he relaxed as he had so far this evening, one word of shop talk put him back into egghead mode. He started to apologize to the Ambassador, but the aristocrat waved him off with an understanding wink and promised to have his staff look into the article. Andy led his companion off, firmly attached to her side and wondering yet again what he had done to warrant her presence in his life.

The ambassador sipped at his punch and watched with great amusement as the couple walked away from him. The Gardener was in love, that much was obvious in the way Dr. Forest held the woman close, looked at her through gray-blue eyes hazed with deep affection. The woman, a svelte, cinnamon-haired beauty, was more guarded but seemed very comfortable with the doctor's arm securely wrapped around her waist. He hoped for the sake of the good-hearted if heady biochemist that no one with less honorable intentions than his own to help his country recover arable land clued in to the attachment between Dr. Forest and... JoJo, that was it. That attachment could prove useful to the wrong people.

  
  


**The Inaugural Ball * 10:50 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  
  


Francine drifted among the _glitterati_ with Larry by her side, feeling left out of life as she caught glimpses of her best friends sharing this spectacular moment in history with the people who completed them. It was a little easier to think of Billy without Jeannie because she wasn't an agent, but sometime in the last three or four years, Lee Stetson and Amanda King had gone from and that frumpy housewife to Lee and Amanda – and never one without the other in her mind. Their deception about their marriage had put a serious crimp in her friendship with the couple. Amanda's persistent goodwill, her inclusion of Francine as a bridesmaid at their public ceremony, and Amanda's help when Francine's mother died over the summer finally thawed her anger and brought them closer than ever. Francine longed to be more than a fifth wheel when they were out like this, or on the rare occasions when the world was quiet enough for an impromptu gathering with the extended families that included Philip and Jamie as well as Billy's daughters and husbands. Soon, there would be grandchildren, too. 

These thoughts kept her cattiness near the surface, so it was with a certain amount of spiteful pleasure that Francine noticed the gorgeous woman at the champagne fountain in the center of the grand sun room. Stitch for stitch, the cinnamon-haired swan wore the same dress as Amanda.

There's the smile I've been waiting for, Larry said beside her. You've been distracted all evening.

I'm sorry. I just had something on my mind, trying to puzzle it through. Would you mind if I went to tell my friends about this while I've got it fresh in my thoughts? Lame, she thought, but with luck he would be hooked up with someone else in a short while and she could make a polite exit. Otherwise, she'd claim a headache.

Sure. I'll just wait at the bar, he replied 

Francine made her way to the table one of her friends had snagged, naturally placed to allow each agent to cover half the room and two of the three entryways in a single glance. Always on duty, she mused, even when they relax.

Amanda and Lee sat side by side, his right hand as always intertwined with her left. Francine knew that when they were finished eating, Lee's arm would wrap itself around some part of his wife, probably her impossibly tiny waist.

Billy and Jeannie weren't holding hands, which she thought odd until she caught a glimpse under the table and saw Jeannie's stockinged foot creeping its way up under the leg of Billy's trousers. She couldn't hold in the giggle, so she added a little more volume to her exclamation of greeting. There you are!

Heads swiveled in wariness at her arrival, the faces only relaxing as each agent recognized their coworker.

Hi, Francine. We saved seats for you and Larry, Amanda nodded gently toward the empty chairs between Billy and Lee. I'm really sorry for what I - 

Oh, posh, Amanda, don't apologize. It's all in fun, Francine interrupted, startled that Amanda had remembered her date's name. But I have to tell you, she continued, leaning in conspiratorially, there's a woman here wearing the exact same dress you are. And come to think of it, something tells me I ought to know who she is.

Lee growled.

Knowing that Amanda wouldn't really care about the fashion horror of a duplicate outfit, Francine let Lee glower for several seconds before she patted his arm and sat down beside him. And you both look exquisite in the dress, whoever she is.

Confusion crossed the faces of her friends. Francine, you just complimented someone without needing anything from her. Are you feeling okay? Billy quipped, legitimately half-concerned. 

Before anyone else could jump in, another voice grabbed their collective attention. Amanda West! I don't believe it!

Amanda looked up, puzzled for a few seconds before she placed the face and the voice. Andy Forest! Oh, my gosh, how are you? she asked, rising from her chair and extending her right hand to the interloper. Lee gripped her left hand possessively; after a just proper length hand shake, she turned to her husband and explained to him and the rest of her friends how the handsome, dark-haired man happened to know her by her maiden name. Andy was my biology lab partner when we were students out at the University of Virginia. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's the only reason I passed, never mind made an A' in, Biology 101.

Andy Forest replied to Amanda's statement, but Lee didn't hear it. The woman around whose waist Mr. Forest's arm was wrapped drew his attention; only at the sharp shake of her head did he squelch the gasp of surprised recognition that threatened to escape his lips. He saw that she stilled reactions from Francine and Billy the same way; only then did he turn his attention back to his wife, who was just saying...

...Lee Stetson, a producer/director at IFF. Amanda lovingly stepped closer to him as she finished her introduction.

Lee obligingly shook hands with the man, then impatiently waited for Amanda to finish the rest of the social necessities. He wanted to know what was going on.

Apparently, Andy Forest lacked some basic social skills, because the woman had to nudge him overtly before he introduced her. At least it was a gracious introduction, of sorts. I apologize up front that everything I'm about to say sounds sexist, because it isn't meant that way. This is JoJo Marley, my Girl Friday, secretary extraordinaire, life saver, and general all-around American Express Woman – you know, Don't leave home without her...'

JoJo Marley laughed, allowing the others to do the same after a hesitant pause, and exaggerated a roll of her sparkling green eyes. My official title is Executive Project Manager for Project Administration'. What it really means is that I am at the beck and call of the Project Executive Director 16 hours a day, 6 days a week. I fight for the 1 day and 8 hours, believe me.

The Iraqi Agricultural Attaché approached at that point and asked for a moment of Andy's time. I've got to talk with Mr. Agazi. Stay here, Jo, Andy said, obviously reluctant to let her go. She caught his arm as he slipped by and whispered in his ear; he turned back to say, Please excuse me, it was nice to meet you all. Amanda, please give Jo your information. I'd love to catch up later.

JoJo watched him go, laughing as he bumbled his way toward the dessert table with the Middle Eastern diplomat. Mrs. Stetson, was he like this in college, too?

Please, call me Amanda, she corrected. And, if you can believe it, he was worse.

JoJo's smooth brow furrowed in thought. Oh, dear. I'll have to work overtime on that.

Lee couldn't help himself anymore; he had to break the silence imposed with JoJo's head shake moments before. You, work overtime on anything? What happened to the vaunted Marley Mental Magic, Joanna?

Amanda felt a knot growing in her stomach as she wondered if yet another of Lee's old girlfriends had come back to cause problems. The she realized that Billy and Francine were laughing and obviously knew her, as did Jeannie. She relaxed just a little as she waited for JoJo to answer he husband.

Scarecrow, even the vaunted Marley Mental Magic' has trouble grasping the concept that B. Andrew Forest, Ph.D., has more social grace now than he's ever had in his life. Without warning, she leaned over the table to look more closely at Amanda. After a moment, she smiled broadly and turned back to Lee. It looks like you and I should both be grateful for such an inconceivable event, Lee. Otherwise, Amanda might be Mrs. Andrew Forest and we'd be left out...

Billy, for whom Amanda being with anyone except Lee was as inconceivable as the upgrade of Andy Forest's social skills was to JoJo, pushed away from the table and stood to give her a hug. So, are you and the doctor...?

The shoulder-blade length cinnamon hair swung beautifully across her bare shoulders with the shake of her head. He's a bit too dense to get it right now. Although I must say that the two minutes and 25 seconds he's been gone is the longest time he's been out of physical contact tonight. She laughed lightly, a sweetly tinkling sound that melted the knot in Amanda's stomach further. Amanda, I must say, you have exquisite taste in both men and fashion. The sweep of her arm took in both Lee and their matching strapless, princess waist dresses.

Hand at her heart pendant again, Amanda blushed slightly and relaxed enough to admit her confusion. Just how do you all know each other, anyway?

Lee pulled his wife down onto his lap, letting JoJo sit in what had been her chair. Well, Sweetheart, unless I miss my guess, Miss JoJo Marley, known to a very select few of us by her given name of Joanna, is actually the bodyguard of America's most obstinate National Strategic Asset.

We prefer Personal Security Agent', but that's the general idea.

Amanda gasped as pieces fell into place in her head. Andy Forest is the Gardener? The head of Project EDIN?

JoJo nodded. That's him. The world's preeminent research biochemist and quintessential absent-minded professor.

And you're his bodyguard? She looked from Lee to Billy to Francine to JoJo. You've all worked together, haven't you?

This time, JoJo shook her head. Not quite. Lee and Billy were part of the interagency team that led my training class. Francine was in the class with me. We, too, are old schoolmates, you might say.

Francine tried to be nice when she finally spoke. Amanda, meet the Head of the Class. But she couldn't hold on to the kind thought that passed through her head, coming out instead with, In seduction, too, and looking pointedly at Lee.

Amanda's stomach knotted again, clenched tighter this time because Francine's look made Lee squirm.

I guess this leopard hasn't changed her spots at all, JoJo commented neutrally, looking back and forth at Francine and the uncomfortable Stetsons.

Billy groaned, knowing all to well that the Stetsons would not be a happy couple again until much later tonight. Unfortunately, Joanna, not much. You could – hang on, he interrupted himself, looking down to check the pager at his waist. That's the Secret Service. Back to work, people.

The President, his three best agents said as one, departing as abruptly as Dr. Forest almost had a few moments before.

Andy made eye contact with JoJo as he noticed the agents moving off; he made a quick drinking motion in question and she nodded in answer. She'd been his bodyguard for a year and a half and he hadn't really figured it out, so why bother him with more details? Turning to Jeannie, she took the older woman's hands and squeezed. Oh, Jeannie, the despair tumbled out of her, is there ANYONE out there for Francine?

Jeannie Melrose, thinking of Amanda's reply to the same general question earlier, started to giggle. I don't know, Joanna, she said between spasms of laughter. But God help him if he exists!


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I have followed the thought that Lee was recruited into the Agency in or about 1975 after a tour in Military Intelligence in Vietnam in setting up what follows...

  
  


**Washington, D.C. * January 21, 1989 * 1:35 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Amanda managed to forget about Joanna and Francine's comments about Lee for the rest of the evening. She and Lee danced for a solid hour after the President left the ball, and during that time she steeled herself against taking him off into some dark, secluded corner to have her way with him. Although they had been married for nearly two years, the passion burned more brightly (speaking of inconceivable events) now than it had even on their wedding day. She might even have forgotten entirely, except for Francine's comment to her on their way to the parking lot at 1:30 the next morning.

Well, I can see that you give our Miss Joanna a run for her money in the seduction department – at least when it comes to Lee Stetson. She got into Larry's car, presumably to go back to his apartment.

Eyes welling with tears, Amanda stood with her faux fur coat wrapped around herself tightly and watched the little black sedan drive off. Damn her, she muttered, surprising herself with the strength of her words. Why should it matter what happened before she and Lee met? She knew about Dorothy and about Eva, the women most likely to have been threats had the first been alive or the second someone other than a KGB agent. She even knew about Leslie, but Lee had admitted to her long since that Leslie was his failed attempt to find her in another woman with less power over him.

Lee knew as he watched the exchange from a few yards away that Francine had said something nasty just by the sagging of his wife's beautiful form. There were times when he wished Francine hadn't saved his life a few times too many for him to feel like he could beat the stuffing out of her on the general principle that bullies should have to endure what they put others through. In the next breath, he had to admit that were it not for Amanda, he'd be very much a male version of Francine. He couldn't fault his erstwhile friend for what was missing in her life. Maybe just a good verbal backhand would do it.

Lee went to Amanda and ushered her wordlessly into the precious silver Corvette. He drove them down to the Tidal Basin, to the Jefferson Memorial, where he parked and ushered her out of the car, all in silence save the small hiccups Amanda couldn't hold in as she wept. They walked up to the statue's platform, where Lee carefully held her up until he could make sure that she could sit in his lap as he leaned against a freezing granite pillar.

Sweetheart, what's wrong? What did Francine say to you? he asked in as tender a voice as he could muster.

The torrent started with a sniffle. Look, I know you think it's silly that I still worry about the women in your past and what they might have meant to you, and I know that nobody's gonna take you away from me without an awfully big fight, but Lee, she's gorgeous and Francine hates her and I know you and Francine were involved and I could tell by the way you acted that you feel guilty about something so I just want to know now before I find out from someone else that you shot someone in a jealous rage over this woman or - 

Lee laughed. He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. He pulled her more closely into his arms and laid a warm kiss on her forehead, then on her lips to still the outburst he knew she was going to let loose on him about laughing. Amanda, honey, I've never shot anybody in a jealous rage over a woman. I thought about it a hundred dozen times before I even knew why I wanted to shoot any man who looked at you twice... He saw her lips tug upwards in a smile and kept going. Francine, in case you haven't noticed, is very competitive. Simply put, Francine's dislike of Joanna comes because Joanna is better than she is at EVERYTHING one needs to be able to do to be a successful field agent. And the worst part for Francine is that Joanna is a lot younger than you might think she is.

Sniffling again but intrigued by her husband's words, Amanda answered the unspoken question. I figured her for Francine's age, a couple of years younger than us.

Lee smiled his devastatingly handsome smile at his wife. Eleven years ago, Joanna celebrated her 19th birthday during her interagency training.

Amanda replied, putting more meaning into the single syllable than most people can in a sentence. She sat up a little bit, just enough to make eye contact with her husband. So not only did Francine lose out to someone, she lost out to a kid.

Lee nodded, thinking that perhaps he's get out of this without explaining what was, in the end, an innocent prank. But then he remembered who had the bit between her teeth and why it was there, so he just sighed and waited for the next – admittedly logical – question from his wife.

But what did Francine mean about 

Where to start? First, he pulled Amanda back against his chest and spent a moment nibbling her earlobe, carefully avoiding the diamond studs that were his first anniversary gift to her. She shifted slightly, obviously enjoying the attention, but he could tell that she opened her mouth to prompt him, so he began with, Amanda, you know that you really can't trust Francine when it comes to her take on my past concerning women. This is no exception.

**Flashback * Yorktown, Virginia * Winter/Spring, 1978**

  
  


_The Interagency Training Center adjoins the infamous CIA in Yorktown, Virginia. Recruits from nearly all of the truly secret Intelligence agencies of the government spend six weeks together learning the basics of the trade before moving on to more specific training with their own agencies. Francine passed her Station One pre-screening with marks better than all but two agents in its history. She had been out of college for two years working as a language analyst and interpreter for the National Security Agency when she impressed Billy with her innate abilities on a cross-agency assignment. JoJo, at 18 already in possession of a Masters in psychology and working toward a doctorate, was the whiz kid sought out by the CIA, the Agency, and the Special Protective Services Agency for her ability to profile and predict the behavior of others. She was at the center as the lone recruit of the SPSA because her father, a theoretical physicist, had been guarded since before her birth by SPSA men – the SPSA was for all intents and purposes part of her family._

_During the first week, the two women – the only women in a class of 27 – took top honors in the competitive academic sections. No allowances were made in the physical fitness sections for gender differences; it was thus shocking to the class to have the two women leading there, too. Francine, miffed at being second best by quite a wide margin, showed just how immature she could be when during the second week she took to taunting the young Miss Marley._

_Despite the fact that she bested them by a tidy point spread in every exercise and scenario, the men in the class without exception truly liked JoJo. Several of them, in fact, harbored fantasies about her, which made Francine the outcast of the class. Francine, in spite, set her cap for the instructors, specifically Lee and the lead instructor, a field agent with the SPSA named John Randolph._

_The only flaws in Francine's theory were that Lee wasn't interested in either of the women because he was heavily involved with two others at the time and that John was enthralled with JoJo._

  
  


And looking back on it, he never denied his feelings about her – not once. Do you know, Amanda, he watched her for five minutes on the first day, turned to me, and said, Lee, someday, I'm going to marry that young woman.'

Well, did he?

I don't honestly know. Should we go home to finish this story?

Wrapped in her warm faux fur and snuggled in her man's lap, Amanda was cozy and satisfied to sit and listen. But if you're cold...

Lee shook his head and bent down for a lingering kiss before he resumed his story.

John and I had been friends since we served together in Vietnam, so I was thrilled to hear him say he'd found the woman he planned to marry. I was even more impressed that he managed not to let on to her or, that I could see, to anyone else – until very the end of the session.

  
  


_Francine had been on a rampage with her sniping at JoJo. Finally at her breaking point, on the last day of the fifth week, JoJo came in tears to the instructor office, where Billy, John, Lee, and a CIA rep were preparing the final challenges for the next week. JoJo's turmoil spilled out in a rush, telling the leaders of pranks and dirty tricks that had been played on her over the course of the training. None of them, she said in defense of her antagonist, was that bad by itself, but the constant picking was more than she could stand. I just want to get back at her in a way that won't hurt her chances with the Agency, JoJo finished, because she's really very good at this stuff._

_The CIA man, a field operative with incredibly good instincts, echoed JoJo's assessment, then left for the Farm and an advanced class he needed to observe. I still think the SPSA offered her more money, he quipped to Billy with a nod to JoJo. What we could do..._

_Billy laughed at the thought, then turned to JoJo and grilled her for several minutes, concerned that Francine's obsessive personality really did make her unfit for work with the Agency._

_On the contrary, Mr. Melrose, JoJo assured him. That trait will be a great strength IF it can be channeled. Trust me, I've had lots of time to analyze this._

_ Billy said with a laugh. If you can find it in your heart to say she's not mentally disqualified for the job after everything she's said to you, said about you, and done to you, then I guess we'll just have to keep her. Under VERY close observation, right, Scarecrow?_

_I think you'll regret it, but sure. Just don't make her my partner. That woman is all hands._

_As in all hands on...', John amended. He and Lee shared a deviously innocent look._

_Billy caught the lifted eyebrows and nodded almost imperceptibly at the two younger men, holding a smile back with obvious effort. He quickly excused himself, saying to the men clearly, I'm leaving. I stayed for the debrief and now I need to ponder the consequences of what I heard. He got to the door, turned, and looked right at the now calmer JoJo. I trust that there will be a little bird who gets told what happens after I leave so that little bird can tell me. He flashed a huge grin and walked out, closing the door tightly behind him._

_JoJo looked at the remaining instructors from where she stood across from John and stopped them in mid-plot, reminding them yet again why it was that she had a Master's degree at such a young age. I hate to tell you this, but what Francine needs is not a good healthy dose of physical slapstick humor._

_John and Lee looked at her quizzically._

_Well, you were plotting something truly evil and tortuous in a Three Stooges kind of way, weren't you. Not a question, a statement._

_ John asked, his amethyst eyes twinkling with laughter. Sweet, innocent, lovable little ol' us? We couldn't harm anyone, even a snake like Francine._

_Spiced auburn eyebrow raised, JoJo studied them carefully for a moment. I'll concede the lovable, in a Peter Pan I'm never gonna grow up' kind of way._

_Hey, John, she thinks we're lovable, Lee repeated, punching the other man in the shoulder lightly._

_Well, I am, anyway. You, I'm not - _

_Listen to me very carefully, gentlemen. The two turned and were startled to see their companion slouched in the chair across from John's desk, feet up on the desk and thoroughly in command._

_Assured after a few seconds that she had their undivided attention, she continued with her analysis of what Francine did need. She needs to be bested – again and again and again – at everything she does, but shown friendship and respect as a person despite her so-called failures. The look on her face kept the guys from laughing at the idea of showing Francine respect – never mind friendship. That's why I've tried so hard to be nice to her in the midst of all this. See, Francine's only image of herself as a lovable person is as a perfect person. She beats herself up inside whenever she isn't the best at whatever it is she's doing. Her only way of coping with all that she perceives as failure – which is everything she's done in the past five weeks, thanks to me – is to let out what she can't internalize. I'm the convenient and easy target because it's my fault. And since I haven't retaliated, she's besting me and thus regaining some sense of herself._

_And she thinks that I won't retaliate, so she thinks she's got a safe anchor. The grin playing across JoJo's face was neither innocent nor pleasant. I've got news for her._

_John and Lee gaped at her for several moments. John happened to find his voice first. But the tears, the complaints, the hurt...  
_  
  


_All very real, I assure you. I usually have my nightly cry just after lights out before Francine sneaks back into the room from wherever she thought she would find some action. Showing those feelings to Mr. Melrose served its purpose, believe me. For him and for me._

_We've been had, John, Lee said, not knowing whether to be angry or amused._

_Funny you should put it that way, Mr. Stetson..._

_JoJo outlined her plan to them in swift, sure strokes. She knew from studying her classmates and the other instructors that their buy-in would be easy to get with the simple question, How would you like to teach Francine a lesson?_

_Final Week consisted of a series of 2-3-person team exercises designed to test the agent candidates' abilities under a variety of circumstances. Anyone who looked closely at the rotation schedule would see that every man in the class had two separate exercises during which he was paired with JoJo – one with another man and one alone. And after the first day, the ten men who had been in their trio exercise with her raved about the experience. Seduction 101, some called it. One wag said and the name stuck. Even the instructors who proctored these exercises – and each male instructor got the opportunity at least 4 times over the week, talked about the hot time in the cold room JoJo was providing to the class._

_Francine steamed about it. No one would say anything more than the broadest hints to her face, but they made plenty sure that they talked loudly enough for her to overhear the stories. JoJo could make them understand just how to touch a woman to have her melt into compliance with any request, and she was willing to let them practice. When I get married someday, my wife is going to really appreciate her tutelage, and other such homage was regularly paid for the the first half of the week._

_Just after lunch on Wednesday, Francine walked into the lunchroom, where the men sat speculating wildly about the solo sections upcoming, and announced loudly, That little girl wouldn't know pleasure if it reached out and sucked her into itself. _**I**_can show you how a real woman likes it. And I can return the favor, too._

_Lee couldn't resist. But after JoJo, it would be such a let down._

_The room exploded into riotous laughter. Francine turned and fled from the building in real tears, reappearing only because she had to participate in the class exercise that afternoon._

_At dinner that night, Francine watched helplessly as the instructors showered the younger woman with attention. Lee Stetson appeared particularly enthralled, hovering over and around her like a bee to a newly opened flower. JoJo's calculation on that score had been right on target – after he brushed Francine off so callously early on in the session, for Francine to see him catering to JoJo's every whim pushed her over the edge._

_Marching up to the table where JoJo sat with her male harem, Francine reached out and grabbed the other woman by a fist full of hair. She pulled her up and dragged her to the front of the dining hall, silencing the room with one withering glare._

_Anger seething through every pore, Francine said her piece. If you all are so whipped up by your testosterone that you can't recognize her for what she is, then you deserve her. She's nothing but a slut looking to be loved because she can't get it any other way. She huffed self-righteously. And don't anyone come crawling back to me when you tire of her. I don't do leftovers. She looked down at JoJo, snarled into her face. You got anything to say, whore?_

_JoJo smiled benignly. Only that it takes one to know one. Are you one? I wouldn't know. Then she braced herself for the slap she knew was coming._

_Holding her burning cheek a moment later, JoJo whispered under her breath as she watched Francine storm out, Brava, darling. Now hold onto that until you can get the next piece figured out._

_Talk about the solo session grew even more lurid than that of the previous sessions had been. Francine tried hard to avoid hearing it, sitting by herself at meals and generally staying as far away from everyone as she could. She had no way of knowing that the sessions were quite serious training for the realities of sex and seduction in the espionage world – or, for that matter, that the sessions were planned the moment JoJo, whose masters' thesis had been about the psychology of seduction, was accepted to training. Far from the steamy sexual encounters the men talked about for the sake of teaching Francine a lesson, JoJo actually spent the time in frank, clinical discussion with each man. The first part of the week she taught them about the risks of promiscuity and ways to protect themselves (AIDS hadn't yet been identified, but safe sex was still a good idea). The second part dealt with the actual art of seduction – but there was NO practice involved._

_JoJo didn't have total control of the plan, however. Lee and John plotted with the rest of the single instructors and the students to give Francine two little last gasps of pain at the final banquet on Saturday night. The all-male review John could take or leave, but that had been Lee's idea and he didn't feel the need to participate as Lee did. The other John anticipated with both dread and joy: it seemed only fair that the instructor give a head of the class award to the best student – one for students, one for the staff who had willingly been her students, too. With this particular prod at Francine, Lee noted wryly to John as they readied for lights out on Friday night, JoJo would get to kiss every available man in the center in the process. Including you. Think you can keep your feelings under control?_

_I don't know, the man answered honestly. He paced the small room in two strides, his defensive end sized bulk restlessly bounding as if seeking a quarterback to sack. I will tell you this, though. I'd better be last in this little escapade, because I don't think I'll be able to stand watching her kiss anyone else after I've had my turn._

_Even Francine admitted – much later – that the all-male review had been cleverly and humorously done. As for the kissing contest, well..._

_JoJo looked stricken when John and Lee announced their plan. After such incredible instruction in the finest art of lovemaking, it was, they declared, only fair that instructor of the course pick an official head of the class for the students and for the staff._

  
  


She got us back for that one on the spot, Lee said to his wife on the cold steps of the Jefferson Memorial.

What did she do? Amanda asked, genuinely curious at the prospect of her husband being bested by a woman at that time in his life – and a very young one, at that. It happened all the time, now, of course.

She declared a winner for the students, a very shy man who needed a confidence boost. Then she went through the instructor staff. There were 8 of us. She narrowed it to 4, then to two - 

You and John...

Uh, yeah. Had he not been so comfortable sitting with his arms wrapped around his wife as she sat in his lap, he would have run his hand through his hair nervously just then. By the time John had kissed her three times, he was oblivious to everything else. Until I met you, I couldn't even begin to understand how that worked, by the way. Anyway, after that third kiss, Joanna declared that she needed another expert opinion.

Mmm hmm. I will never forget the look on Joanna's face as she dared us silently to protest – I'd rather face Dr. Smyth in a rage than that expression ever again. Joanna took Francine off for a few minutes, then they came out and JoJo made us kiss her.

Amanda watched her husband's ruggedly handsome face as he squirmed a bit, obviously trying to find a way to say what he needed to say without causing her more pain and indignity. Finally, with a resigned sigh, Lee finished the story. There were sparks when I reluctantly kissed Francine. Not, please understand, at all like any of the times I kissed you even before I knew what I was feeling. But enough at the time for me to feel like I should at least try a relationship with her. Francine always said, though, that she felt like I was with her because I lost Joanna to John. She felt like she was second best – again.

Amanda turned gently in his arms to look up at him, chestnut eyes sparkling. No wonder she hated me at first. JoJo, Eva, then me – and let's not forget Dorothy before all of us.

Well, Joanna was a passing thought of about 35 seconds before John said he was going to marry her, let's be clear on that. But yeah, poor Francine. I just hope someday she finds someone to do for her what you've done for me.

And what would that be?

Help me heal and help me become a whole person. He kissed the tip of her cute nose playfully. And exercise with me in the most enjoyable ways...


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I wrote papers on Bio-Chemical warfare in high school in the 1980's (gee, maybe my favorite TV show influenced that...) and had a _really_ hard time finding accurate, accessible information. When I went out to update my research, I was appalled at how much I found on the Internet in less than 5 minutes. I've taken the information in this story from sources that I have cross-checked; any inaccuracies are due to my lack of chemical and biological training.

  
  


**Chapter 2 * Fort Meade, Maryland * January 21, 1989 * 3:21 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

The overnight Middle East Listening Post Observer, an Air Force Staff Sergeant, glanced up at the vast recording machine when he heard the unmistakable click of a reel-to-reel tape starting. Automatically, he noted the origin and the time of the call with the black, government issue Skilcraft ball-point pen chained to the log book, then turned back to the _Hustler_ magazine hidden behind the _Time_ visible to anyone who might happen by. After all, Iraq was an ally, so there would be nothing of value that couldn't wait until the routine transcription time – especially on Washington's most festive of days.

***

Except that this particular call from the Iraqi Embassy to Baghdad did not terminate at the Foreign Ministry as pre-supposed in Baltimore. Rather, with the use of a special access code, the call was routed to a telephone in a different building in Baghdad, where it was 11:21 in the morning, and automatically conferenced to a telephone in Tehran, where in the oddities of time zones it was 11:51 in the morning.

What did you learn this evening in your chat with the good Dr. Forest? Samir asked from his office in Iran.

Not much of direct value, I'm afraid, but information that may prove useful in the interim, replied the the Iraqi Agricultural Attaché as he sipped a a double shot of Glen Fiddich. The militant adherents of Islam paid Tariq Agazi well to provide information, not to live by their beliefs, and it amused him to know that neither of the men with whom he now spoke would approve.

Ali in Iraq spoke impatiently. 

The Gardener is in love.

The lifting of eyebrows in surprise was audible halfway around the globe as the two terrorist leaders processed the new information.

With whom? asked the voice in Iran after a moment.

His executive assistant. I'm told that she's a widow with a small child, although I have not been able to confirm or deny that as yet. Agazi paused for more Scotch, then added, I will be delighted to find out later today.

Samir nodded, unseen by his fellow conspirators. Please do. For for this you will be rewarded handsomely, I assure you.

Inshallah, thank you.

The Washington connection closed, leaving Samir and Ali to contemplate the best way to use this invaluable information.

**Washington, D.C. * 1:05 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

I cannot believe that Andy Forest is the Gardener, Amanda said to Francine as they made their way through the bullpen to the conference room for the weekly status meeting, all of last night's antics forgiven and forgotten. I mean, I knew he was smart and all that, but, gosh, I was lab partners with the Gardener. That's amazing.

Francine held her breath, waiting for Amanda to continue. When the other woman didn't, Francine exhaled and replied, Well, he is the reason you made an A' in Bio 101... Her voice rose in unspoken implication.

Amanda laughed and swatted her on the arm playfully with the stack of folders she held in her hand. Nice to know some people never change. They stepped into the conference room and took seats on either side of Lee, who was already in the room going over the agenda with Billy.

A few minutes later, Billy called the room to order with a serious look and a People, please... Undivided attention captured – well, almost undivided, since he knew that Amanda and Lee were holding hands under the table – he started with the good news. The Security Coordinating Committee officially thanks us all for a tremendous job this last week and wishes us the best as we recover from a long night last night. 

He waited for the cheers and applause to die down before he dropped the bad news on them. Unfortunately, we're going to have to stay at full weekend staff rather than skeleton crew as I had hoped. The Mossad got a very hot tip on a biochemical terrorist threat cooking for next week during a religious festival.

What, the Yom Kippur War wasn't enough, so now they're going for the Purim Plague? Francine startled a number of people both with the crassness of the comment and with the knowledge it showed.

Billy just rolled his eyes; Dr. Smyth had uttered the exact same phrase an hour before when the flash came across his desk for priority handling. Francine had to have a soulmate out there somewhere. The consequences were just too terrifying to contemplate if she didn't. he continued as the moaning and groaning died down, all the Mossad can give us at this time is that there's a 90% probability that information is genuine. They've asked for our help and we've been handed the coordinating assignment for U.S. efforts. The duty roster will be posted outside my office in about 20 minutes.  
  
  


Billy covered the rest of his agenda in just a few minutes, then turned the meeting over to Lee for a few routine Q Bureau assignments. Billy dismissed everyone with a reminder to check the duty roster, then stopped his three best agents by name. Scarecrow, Amanda, Francine, hold up. I need you all to close up shop for the day and meet me at the Georgetown parking lot in 15 minutes.  
  
  


Why, sir? Amanda asked.  
  
  


I want all four of us briefed in at the senior level strategy meeting, so we're spending the rest of the afternoon at the Pentagon.  
  
  


Yes, sir, she nodded crisply, bringing smiles to the faces of the three other agents.  
  
  


Upstairs in the Q Bureau a few minutes later, Lee tried with minimal success to distract his wife from her close-up routine at the Q-Bureau. Then again, he realized after nearly three years, him trying with minimal success to distract his wife from her close-up routine WAS part of her close-up routine. It had been a game to help them avoid their feelings at first; now it was a game they played like so many others at work to help them channel their emotional energy into something more suited for the office than the bedroom.  
  
  


I was really hoping that we could invite Andy and JoJo over this weekend, Amanda fussed as she artfully dodged her husband's outstretched hands to put the last stack of papers in the vault.  
  
  


I take it you'd like to catch up with Andy Forest, then. He readied his hands for another try at her when she stepped out of the vault.  
  
  


Yes, I would. She closed and locked the vault door with an extra tug at the handle for security. And I'd like to get to know JoJo Marley a _lot_ better.  
  
  


Lee ran his hand through his hair before he replied to Amanda. I suppose we could see how the schedule looks. Sunday's probably better - the boys have less going on. Do you think they'd mind? Oh, nev--   
  
  


Jamie would be in seventh heaven pestering Andy with science questions. I don't know about Philip, though.  
  
  


Lee decided not to tell his wife that he had answered his own question even as he asked it. Philip and Jamie were teenagers. Joanna Marley was a drop-dead gorgeous woman built more like Dolly Parton than Twiggy. They wouldn't mind having company on Sunday, no, not one little bit.

**The Pentagon * 2:10 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

The Executive Conference Room in the Defense Intelligence Agency Suite of the Pentagon held 35 people comfortably. Looking around at the 50 or more bodies already crammed into the room, Billy Melrose gave up all hope of seats for himself and his staff, opting instead for space against an as yet unclaimed stretch of wall along the side. He watched with great amusement as Amanda and Lee fidgeted, not knowing how to stand without being in physical contact. They finally settled on standing shoulder to shoulder - although it was obvious that Lee's hand was in a place someone other than his wife would not appreciate...  
  
  


Moments later, the Executive Intelligence Committee walked in. A teasing voice coming from just beyond Francine to his left said, with enough volume for Amanda to hear from where she stood beyond Lee to his right, Well, lookee there, children. If it isn't the overgrown Penguin himself. The tone focused their attention on the stage, where Dr. Smyth had just taken the podium; Billy struggled mightily to strangle to guffaw that rose to his lips at the epithet. From the goofy looks on the faces of his staff members, Amanda, Lee, and Francine were having just as difficult a time as he keeping a straight face.

Dr. Smyth chose that moment to make eye contact; the neutral expression became a cold grimace at the sight of the four agents behaving inappropriately. Just as quickly, though, the expression softened into the first pleasant smile Billy had ever seen on the man's face.

Oh, no. He saw me, the voice moaned, and Billy finally recognized it as Joanna Marley's voice. Got a safe house I can move into for the weekend?

Billy knew he had a stupid grin on his face for the next 20 minutes, but he didn't dare change the look for fear of committing the career ending _faux pas_ of laughing out loud during his own supervisor's section of a major National Intelligence briefing. Francine tapped her foot, Amanda played with her heart pendant, and Lee ran his hand through his hair repeatedly as the time dragged on; this time it was not from boredom that the three fidgeted but from sheer self-preservation, just as was his stupid grin. The overgrown Penguin took his own time reviewing the facts as known.

At long last, Smyth turned the briefing over to the Deputy Director of Intelligence for the Middle East, the fourth in the CIA hierarchy and the first in the chain there who was not strictly a political appointee. Billy liked and respected the man tremendously – he was the highest ranking person in Washington who had ever actually said, I don't know to Billy in a professional capacity. The man's brief but in-depth lecture traced out the suspected ties of many major terrorist groups to suppliers of the chemical and biological weaponry reported to be part of the arsenal in place for the attack on Israel. One name made the entire Agency group stand up straight and take notice.

We believe that a remnant of the now-defunct group led by Adi Birol may have become involved with a group calling itself Hammedatha the Agagite. We also have reason to think that Birol's original funders may be fronting this particular group. From our interrogation of Birol after his capture two years ago, we know that he had access to the same arsenal reported to be in place for this attack; we also know that two members of his inner circle who never came to America are both trained scientists with the ability to supervise the dispersal of chemical weapons during a critical incident.

Amanda shuddered violently; Lee dropped all pretense of professionalism and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

The CIA man continued, We suspect that the biological agents in question are of Russian manufacture, possibly as part of Operation Scarlet Rose, but derived directly from American research. We also do not know if these agents were supplied directly to the terrorists or are black market supply from the on-going Soviet presence in Afghanistan. There is a possibility that many of you will be called upon to go to Israel in the near future. You all need to understand what we may be dealing with. There is no one better qualified in the country – and I doubt in the world – to explain this to you than Dr. Andrew Forest of Project EDIN.

The contrast between the inept bumbler of the night before and the man at the podium could not have been any greater. Polished, relaxed, easy to understand, and piercingly direct, Dr. Forest laid out the weapons thought to be involved in this current threat, as well as the know treatments, side effects, and preventive measures. I'll summarize the key points now – the things you _must_ remember when you walk out of this room, he said after 20 minutes of detailed analysis that, despite the somewhat technical terminology, was clear enough to most people to give the room a distinct odor of fear.

If the threat is real, and if the terrorists indeed have the agents we're told they do, then we are dealing with a highly complex threat of both immediate casualties – including death – and long-term illness resulting from exposure to toxins and chemical agents. These are sophisticated enough terrorists to have the ability to make _Tabun_ and to be in safe possession of the binary agents needed to create _VX-2_ for aerosol disbursement. They also apparently have massed a sufficient quantity of _Botulinum A_ toxin to contaminate an entire day's food stuffs at a facility known to be hosting the Israeli Prime Minister on Tuesday.

Remember this about these agents: There is no known antidote to _Botulinum A_. It is 100% lethal in sufficient quantity – and it's a smaller quantity if inhaled than if ingested. _Tabun_ and _VX-2_ do have some available preventive measures: pyridostigmine is the main inhibitor, and I will have additional information soon on a booster which will most likely contain atropine and diazepam or another anti-convulsant. Your best defense, though, is full CBW gear. Decontamination procedures _must_ include a strong alkali compound – bleach is the best, but it's got to be 80-90% strength to dilute and neutralize any of the agents. If you think it's contaminated, it is until it's decontaminated. Even a single drop can be lethal.

And last but not least, if you are sent to Israel to deal with any of this, either for destruction because we've foiled them, or, God forbid, to assist a targeted population, _be careful_. These are not chemicals you'll find in your high school chemistry lab – and most of them you won't find in a college lab, either. If you aren't sure what to do, ASK. My staff will have complete directives for whatever we find ourselves in, and they're trained for this better than any CBW team in the military.

Your briefing package will contain this entire lecture as well as a Quick-reference list of signs and symptoms, treatments, and decontamination guides. Thank you for paying such apt attention. Dr. Forest stepped back from the podium to absolute silence. After a moment, the collective breath let go and minimal chattering started before the next speaker got up.

At the end of the briefing, nearly 3½ hours after it started, Dr. Smyth ended the session by giving the operation a code name. Operation Haman starts now, he declared around his cigarette holder, and turned his back on the audience.

Wrong name, Joanna Marley commented to the Agency folks as people all around started to stretch and stand after such a long time in the same basic position.

How so? Amanda asked as she stepped out of her pumps and stretched up on her tip-toes.

Haman was the bad guy in the Purim story. The terrorists, in fact, are calling themselves by the name given to Haman's father - Hammedatha the Agagite. Therefore, it would be far better for us to call our operation Mordecai – or, in honor of the real heroine, Esther. They are the ones who prevented what for all intents and purposes would have been genocide. Esther even took her life into her own hands to approach the king without permission. She could have been killed.

It figures, Francine nodded with a smile as she arched her back. The woman is the – EXCUSE ME! she interrupted herself as someone fell against her.

Oh, I'm terribly sor - the man began, but stopped when eyes so dark they were almost black met the sapphire blue orbs looking down at him.

Francine suddenly knew exactly what Amanda meant about the electricity between her and Lee the first time they met. Her whole body tingled as she peripherally watched the man, dashing in his Marine drab uniform, pull himself up off the floor without losing the connection to her eyes.

I'm so very sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I? he recovered after another moment, extending his hand to her.

His hand was warm and gentle in hers; the careful squeeze he gave sent a chill along with the tingle through her body. She fought for enough composure to reply. Um, no, I'm all right, she finally managed, instantly aware that her heart was pounding in her ears and that this very handsome Marine Lieutenant Colonel still held her hand...

I'm so relieved. Here, let me help you get your bag. 

Francine looked down as he squatted to the floor to retrieve her purse, not knowing until he mentioned it that she'd dropped it at all. Even after he let go of her hand, the chilly tingle coursed through her body; she found herself desperately wanting to prolong this incredible encounter. Help came from the woman standing next to her.

Ian Marlowe, as I live and breathe, JoJo said with laughter in her voice.

Jo! What are you doing here? the Lieutenant Colonel asked, handing Francine her purse with a heart melting smile before he reached out to envelope Miss Marley in a bear hug.

JoJo pointed toward the stage area, where Dr. Forest stood holding court in his favorite subject, surrounded by a dozen or more senior officials who obviously wanted details she'd made sure he didn't try to give to the larger audience. Babysitting him, she replied. I see you never lost the knack for blocking and tackling, she teased, turning him back toward Francine. Lt. Col. Ian Marlowe, meet the opposing center, Miss Francine Desmond. Francine, this is Ian Marlowe, three-time New Mexico All-State Defensive Lineman and two-time All-American from Texas A&M. We went to high school together. And before you ask, he actually graduated at the customary age.

Somebody in Los Alamos had to counter the low end of the age pool. It's delightful to meet you, Miss Desmond, he said, extending his hand again.

Unaccustomed as she was to embarrassment, Francine felt herself blush hotly as she shook his hand, corrected him with, Francine, please.

Francine it is. I prefer Ian to Colonel, myself, unless you're also a Marine.

Lee and Amanda, ending a side conversation with someone from the NSA, turned their attention to the trio as Billy tried to disentangle himself from the always unpleasant on-going confrontation with the head of the Washington CIA station. Introductions were made; no one noticed the tall figure sidling his way up the aisle toward them, empty cigarette holder firmly clenched between pale, thin lips.

Joanna Lynne, you really shouldn't associate yourself with these people. They are quite likely to corrupt you irreparably. The tone and the voice were unmistakable and heavily serious.

JoJo rolled her eyes at her companions before she turned her face to the intruder. Uncle Smyth, she said without enthusiasm, kissing his cheek perfunctorily.

Francine, Lee, and Amanda stared in wonder at the change wrought in the usually taciturn man as he relaxed in JoJo's presence. It was as though someone threw a circuit breaker and opened a cage door, allowing a genuine human being to emerge from its prison. Amanda also watched her new friend, who obviously wasn't as thrilled to see Dr. Smyth as was he to see her.

He looked at the Marine officer. Oh, it's you.

Nice to see you, too, Uncle Smyth. The Marine's face remained expressionless.

So, since they vetoed my request to have you as my chief watchdog, who beat me out? He returned his attention JoJo, a hint of malice in his voice as he dismissed the others in his mind.

Dr. Forest, JoJo replied.

Ah, so you're down at Ft. Monroe now. Must remember that the next time I get to Norfolk or TAC HQ at Langley for some conference.

The look on her face plainly said she'd rather he didn't, but she replied politely, That would be nice.

So, Marlena's birthday is soon, isn't it? The cigarette holder came out between pinched fingers and waved expansively in an idle gesture.

Lee's head jerked a bit at that; at Amanda's questioning look, he shook his head and mouthed, 

JoJo nodded to Dr. Smyth. Sunday. It's tough being 2 going on 3 away from home. We're hoping to have a party for her at home next weekend with friends and family.

Well, Joanna Lynne, bring her to the club for a grown-up lunch on Sunday. The last time I saw her – 

Uh, actually, sir, Lee interrupted, Amanda and I have invited Dr. Forest, Marlena, and Joanna over to our house for the day on Sunday.

Had Amanda not known the whole story behind JoJo and her husband, she would have been instantly jealous at the grateful look the woman sent to Lee at his words. Yes, sir, we've booked some entertainment for our guest of honor, she added with a silent nod to the relieved mother.

Dr. Smyth deflated a bit. Oh, well, umm... He straightened and looked at Amanda with the saddest eyes she had ever seen on an icicle. May I come by for cake and ice cream? I know it's rude...

Flabbergasted at the man's humility, and after a sigh and a quick nod from JoJo, Amanda replied with a lingering squeeze of her husband's hand to stop him from interrupting. Of course, Dr. Smyth. How about 3 o'clock Sunday?

Make it 2 o'clock, please, if you don't mind, Amanda. Marlena usually naps between 2:30 and 4. She's apt to be cranky if she's still up at 3.

Two o'clock at the Ki – Stetson house it is, Dr. Smyth confirmed, happy in a way no one could quite believe. Ta, ta, folks, he waved as he sauntered off with a delirious spring in his stride.

JoJo stepped up to the Stetsons and threw her arms around the couple in thanks. Oh, my gosh, you have **NO IDEA** how grateful I am...

Think nothing of it, Lee answered. We were already planning to ask you over. We just didn't know about the extra special third party.

Francine, you come, too, if you can. And you too, Colonel – oops, sorry – Ian, Amanda added, wanting JoJo to have a truly enjoyable day, forgetting for the moment about Dr. Smyth's obvious disdainful acquaintance with the man as well as with JoJo.

Billy finally broke away from the CIA man in time to hear Amanda's invitation to Francine and Ian. Come where?

Joanna's daughter's 3rd birthday party, Billy. Marlena's party, Lee emphasized. Bring Jeannie for the afternoon.

Picking up on Lee's meaning, Billy assented without hesitation for himself and Jeannie, promising to come immediately after church.

Francine tried to introduce Ian to Billy, but she got so adorably flustered that he practically introduced himself. I'm Marlena's godfather, by the way.

Billy noticed the electricity happening before his eyes, realizing that he was seeing a replay of Lee and Amanda's early relationship – and prayed quickly that it would take significantly less time to develop than the Stetsons' had. Then he reluctantly pulled his three agents aside to give them their weekend assignments.

Ian and JoJo conversed quietly in the meantime. Ask her out, JoJo said without preamble.

Is it that obvious, Jo? he asked with a grin.

Ian, my love, we've known each other since I was 3 and you were 8. I watched you fall in love with every other woman in our high school, jealous because I was too much your little sister and WAY too young for you. I've seen you in countless short-term relationships with women who were smart, beautiful, and connected. But I have only seen one other man drool over a woman the way you were just drooling over Francine. I married him, slobber and all. I'd wager that you can't remember a quarter of what was said this afternoon while you sat right over there and swooned. She pointed a slender, perfectly manicured finger toward the seat he had occupied during the briefing.

The chiseled face, angular in the way that only one showing Native American heritage can be, betrayed him as he grinned sheepishly. You'd win, he admitted.

I always do, Ian. Or almost always. 

He noted the sudden sadness in her eyes and wrapped a strong arm around his long-time friend's narrow shoulders. Don't worry, honey, he said softly into her hair. There's another man out there who deserves you.

She looked up at him, then toward the front of the room. And I think he's coming this way.

I think so, too, Ian affirmed, surprising her as he nodded up the aisle toward the slowly approaching lab-coated figure.

I didn't think you liked Andy very much.

Oh, I was prepared to hate his guts. But then I saw the way he looks at you and the way he and Marlena worship each other. I can't hate a man that much in love with my best friend.

You amaze me, you know that? she asked, kissing his cheek lightly. So, do you have your orders yet?

I only know that I'd be told after the briefing. I know that I'm TDY to SPSA.

She grinned at him devilishly. More specifically, you're TDY to me. I convinced the powers that be that this little escapade could get out of control very quickly and that I needed back up. It was very easy to arrange for your services.

Well, aren't you the sneaky one? I wouldn't have it any other way, mind you, he added swiftly. His eyes danced as another thought came to mind. I can spend some time with Andy talking sense into him about you...

Only if you go out with Francine this weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Please pardon any scientific errors; I was a Soviet Studies and Theology major, not a science major!

  
  


**Chapter 3 * Hampton, Virginia * January 22, 1989 * 9:00 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

The formula is confirmed. Whatever strange combination of factors come together in South Texas to cause such devastating environmental damage a few months ago, we managed to get the same effect replicated in the lab this week. I have never seen a test area die so quickly. The short, balding man leaned carefully over his breakfast of pancakes and sausage so his companion could hear him clearly. It can be easily created in a simple laboratory with only one non-marketed chemical. I can provide that to you. And, best of all, it is an ideal binary agent.

His companion, a well-proportioned brunette who might have hailed from anywhere east of Paris or west of the Ural Mountains, raised both eyebrows in astonishment. That, indeed, was good news. But... Have they found a way to counteract it?

he replied with a vehement shake of his head. Have you done as I asked?

She nodded with a small sigh. Everything is arranged. Once you deliver the necessary information to me, drive to the Norfolk airport and pick up the ticket that's been purchased for a flight to New York on your favorite airline. A car will meet you outside baggage claim and further instructions will be delivered at that time.

He smiled at her suggestively. The formula and the necessary component are back at my house.

Loathing the man and all her stood for in his Americanness, the woman acquiesced simply, It will be nice to say good-bye properly. I'll follow you.

When they exited the restaurant, looking for all the world like lovers enjoying breakfast the morning after a tryst, two men in a car parked near the only exit from the lot looked up. One raised a camera to his eyes as the other started the car.

After a moment, the driver pulled into traffic a few cars behind the woman's Yugo. Without looking at his partner, he queried, Did you get a good picture of him?

the man beside him answered. He's probably a nobody. You know the folks in D.C. Let one piece of the Cold War equation get slightly out of balance and anyone who drives a Yugo becomes a suspect.

Yeah, but if it were up to me, anyone who buys a Yugo would get locked up with the loons who aren't ducks. Anyway, I guess we'd better get the pictures off to HQ.

I'll let Watchdog 3 know to meet us at our destination once we get there.

Ten minutes later, the two turned surveillance over to Watchdog 3 and went back to the Agency office, located in a nondescript building near the Newport News Shipbuilding complex. Photo processing took an hour; the facsimile to D.C. went through in two minutes.

They would not know for another 90 minutes that they had started a clock ticking toward World War III.

**Washington, D.C. * 10:25 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Miss Desmond, there's a fax coming in from Newport News, the duty communications officer – an impossibly young man by Francine's standards – announced as Francine stalked past the desk at the front of the Bullpen.

Newport News? She stopped and turned to face him at the desk.

Yes, ma'am. It's in Virginia, he added helpfully. He was too young to understand the look she sent him in its entirety, but he did get the message that his hanging rope had just been shortened considerably. 

Why is anybody working in Newport News on a Saturday morning?

Well, we do have an active investigation going down there, ma'am. Maybe they found something.

Or maybe they're bored. Okay, bring me the printout when it's complete. And see if you can located an SPSA agent named Joanna Marley. I think she's staying at the BOQ at Walter Reed.

He swallowed hard, knowing that she wouldn't be pleased. SPSA, ma'am? 

With a broad, sarcastic grin, Francine bent over into his face. Special Protective Services Agency. They are the folks who protect the _truly_ important people in the United States. You know, the irreplaceable kind. She stood up and looked down her nose at him. _You'll _never qualify. She whirled and marched away to Billy's office, pleased to have someone truly deserving of scorn in the office without Billy to dampen her rain of insults.

The same young man brought her the fax printout a minute or two later with great trepidation, and rightly so. What do you mean, you didn't make copies for the photo analysis section? Is that not S.O.P.?

Uh, y-yes, ma'am, but you said to - 

Must you take _everything_ literally?

Uh, n-n-no, ma'am. I'll go make the copies right now, ma'am.

A fleeting image of Ian Marlowe passed through her mind, and the scowl on her face softened. Oh, I'm sorry, Chuck. Please, get the copies made and bring the original right back.

Not trusting the mercurial woman at the desk, the young man turned and fled, leaving Francine to shake her head with a laugh. Oh, my, Francine, she said to the empty room around her. Just a single thought of a man you've only been with for 15 minutes can change you from tigress to Amanda King. She thought for a moment. Amanda Stetson. Amanda King would never have asked him to make the copies himself.

Once she had the 12 surveillance photos in front of her, Francine spent 10 minutes analyzing the pictures herself before the young man came back and knocked on the door. Miss Desmond, I have Joanna Marley on the phone for you, line 3.

Thanks, Chuck. Could you please call photo analysis and ask them to enlarge the three full face shots? Tell them I want to see if we can get a clear text read on the access badge he's wearing.

Yes, ma'am.

Francine motioned for him to close the door on his way out, then reached over and picked up the phone. JoJo, it's me, Francine. I was wondering if you and I could do lunch today.

The cheerful voice on the other end of the line answered immediately. I'd love to. Any problem to bring Marlena? This is the first day off I've had in three weeks and I'm hoping for some quality time with my daughter before the you know what hits the you know where.

Francine was about to say no, but then she remembered that Marlena was Ian's godchild. I'm going out with him tonight... I would love to meet Marlena. Bring your ID and I'll give you a tour before we go.

You're on. I'll leave now – where am I coming?

Francine gave her directions to the Georgetown portal, which wasn't the closest entrance to Walter Reed but would make it much easier to get to the Bullpen inside the complex. And besides, Mrs. Marsten – who was at work today only because the usual weekend gatekeeper's wife had just had a baby – was a sucker for kids. Disconnected from JoJo, she then called Mrs. Marsten to let her know about her visitors.

By then, the enlarged photos were ready, but try as she might, Francine could make neither head nor tail of the obviously coded access badge. She ambled out to one of the computer terminals, called up a cryptography program, entered the six or seven variations she could make out of the fuzzy image. Nothing came up – she didn't really expect anything too, of course, but she had hoped.

An update came in from the CIA, saying that they knew nothing more than they had three hours ago. How can it be an update, then? she wondered, causing laughter among the staff. Nearly mid-way through the 12-hour weekend day shift, everyone was beginning to get cabin fever, so JoJo's arrival with Marlena made a good diversion. The toddler was immediately swept up into a melee of men and women showering her with attention, and it was obvious that she was a child who adored being adored.

Rather like someone else I know, Francine commented dryly to JoJo as Marlena hopped from lap to lap around the Bullpen.

If you've got it, flaunt it, JoJo replied with a smile. 

Leaving Marlena in good company with the assurance of one of the female agents to page if anything happened, Francine led JoJo through the Agency complex, the two catching up on life since training. Before they returned to the Bullpen, Francine put a hand on the other woman's arm and stopped their progress.

Thank you for the cards over the years, she said sincerely, smiling into the green eyes that she had hated so much early on.

You're welcome. I figured as long as you knew somebody believed in you, you'd be okay.

You have no idea. Sometimes your words have been all that have kept me from burning out in this field. Francine was amazed at herself that she could get the words out so easily; usually this kind of stuff brought her up incoherent.

JoJo reached out to embrace her. You're a good person, Francine. I've always wanted you to have a chance at true happiness.

Eyes twinkling as she stepped out of the brief but heartfelt hug, Francine grinned mischievously at her friend. Was Ian a set-up?

So help me, I didn't know he would be at the briefing and I could never have predicted the mutual attraction. But I'm glad for it.

So am I, Francine replied, opening the door to the Bullpen. She followed her guest through to the group gathered around the younger visitor, then absent-mindedly reached over to pick up the surveillance photos from a nearby countertop.

JoJo got a glimpse of the top sheet. Francine, I know I'm technically not cleared for this, but can I see that? I think I know that man.

Without a word, Francine handed her the sheaf. She watched the younger woman carefully as she went through the pictures methodically. You do know him.

JoJo met Francine's eyes, a sick grimace on her face. He's the number 5 man at EDIN, Frank Palmer. What is he doing in one of your surveillance photos without courtesy notification to us?

Francine paled and took JoJo by the arm, pulling her into Billy's office and closing the door. JoJo, you've got a potential leak here – this man was seen having breakfast this morning with a suspected information broker whom we believe is currently working for an Islamic terrorist group.

Joanna sagged into the couch behind her, her face clouded in thought for five brief seconds that stretched interminably. When she looked back at Francine, it was with steel in her eyes. We're going to treat this like it _is _a leak – a major one. Get your people on him and get him here. Now.

How much does he know?

Let's assume he knows everything, Francine. Or at least as much as Andy does, which is just a little less about the Environmental Defense Initiative than I do.

The blonde looked at the cinnamon-haired woman strangely. If he's the director, how do you know more?

I'm the executive program manager, remember? I have to know the details Andy just can't be bothered with. Give me twenty minutes and I can tell you every employee, their age, social security number, parents' names, spouse, children, religion, degree, and previous employment history.

So tell me about this guy.

Get your people on him first, JoJo countered. And call Billy.

Francine didn't question, simply did as requested – well, technically, ordered. Billy arrived in 10 minutes, at which point JoJo gave them a verbal dossier on the man in question.

Dr. Charles Frank Palmer, Jr.; age 36; 999-01-3579; parents Charles Frank, Sr., and Jennifer Rose, nee Gordon; divorced from Kimberly, nee Alistair, married 1980, divorced in 1986; one child, a daughter named Christa, born 1982; unchurched since high school but brought up Roman Catholic; Ph.D. in molecular biology from Harvard in 1984 after undergraduate work at Cornell and an incomplete master's at Stanford; previously employed as a biology teacher in the San Francisco Public Schools and as a post-doctorate pathology fellow at the Harvard School of Medicine before his acceptance onto the staff of the Environmental Defense Initiative as Fellow of Laboratory Research in 1986; promoted in 1988 to Associate Director. She laid her head against the back of the couch, closing her eyes to the horrific implications of recent developments.

Billy nodded thoughtfully. I guess we'll never know how some people can do that, he said in reference to the woman's recitation. JoJo, what about his security checks? Anything unusual or questionable?

She shook her head, listening briefly for Marlena's voice out in the bullpen before she replied. No. The Defense Investigative Service looked especially carefully at his bank records with the divorce, and our own update showed nothing out of the ordinary just a few months ago when he was promoted. He's a quiet, introspective man who gets flustered every time I walk into a room.

Like that's unusual, Francine commented under her breath, but not softly enough to go unnoticed.

JoJo nodded, but not usually in a lab situation. Most of the times the guys are so wrapped up in their experiments that I can come and go as I please without a fuss. Never with Frank, though.

Guilty conscience? Billy wondered aloud. Or just an over active imagination?

I figured it for the latter, but I could have been wrong – very seriously wrong.

That's a first.

warned Billy almost before she had finished the sentence. Okay. Where's Dr. Forest, Joanna?

He's at Walter Reed working on the booster for the nerve agent neutralizer. Ian's babysitting him.

Do you want him to know about this?

The cinnamon hair swung rhythmically as she shook her head. I'll tell him later in person. For now, he needs to be focused on the task at hand.

You know him best. Francine, send two senior non-watch command agents down to Virginia and let's start pulling this man's life apart. Do we know where he is now?

Watchdog 3 followed the woman, not him, when they left the apartment. He could be anywhere. Francine sat down beside JoJo on the sofa.

Billy looked back at Joanna. Anything big happen recently?

She furrowed her brow in thought, then her eyes flashed wide and her mouth flapped a couple of times before her voice came out with an impatient squeal. The accident in San Patricio County, Texas, in October. My gosh, the guys just replicated the combination of chemicals that caused the topsoil to die and contaminated the ground down to bedrock after the refinery spill. We don't have a remedy yet.

Not understanding, Francine shrugged. 

JoJo reached out and grabbed her by her shoulders, shook her a little bit. Oh, Francine, don't you get it? If Dr. Palmer has the formula and a sample of the catalyst, any number of terrorist groups and maybe even a few less-than-friendly governments will want what he has. He could start a bidding war that... oh, my gosh... Seeing her friend's eyes still glazed in confusion, she elaborated. It only takes an ounce of this compound to sterilize the topsoil in an area the size of the District of Columbia. That means a half-gallon could wreak serious havoc on a small country – it would in the space of hours become completely dependent on other countries for all food supplies and within a week be unable to sustain most animal life naturally.

The utter enormity of the possible harm brought Francine up speechless, unable to form a coherent sentence. Billy, too, was shocked – and then he made a connection no one really wanted to make. If this woman Dr. Palmer was with this morning really is an information broker, then who knows who might might be bargaining for that formula now – or have it already?

The three sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the voices outside the door as the many agents there played with a very happy two-year old. The volume had increased; people were responding to the all-call alert Francine placed at Billy's directive when she summoned him to the office. 

So, what do we say to them? Billy finally asked with a nod toward the Bullpen.

That this could be even bigger than the scare in Israel. The toneless, raw words from a frightened, very knowledgeable woman shook Billy to the core. Dr. Palmer and the woman both must be found, what ever it takes.

**Walter Reed Army Hospital * 3:25 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Dr. Forest, I think you may have it this time, a lab tech called out to the frazzled dark haired man at the lab counter several feet away. The mice are still acting normally 20 minutes after exposure.

It's a start, but let's not pop the champagne open just yet. Colonel, hand me that set of tubes from the centrifuge rack. Joanna Marley might have been able to teach him manners for public consumption, but in the lab, Andy Forest was the unquestioned master whose bidding one did without question – even the commanding general of Walter Reed had seen that during his visit at lunch time.

Yes, sir, Ian replied, carefully setting the tray on the counter beside the intense scientist. In the lab, Forest reminded the career Marine of a professor at Texas A&M, the one who had tried to steer him into chemical engineering instead of the flash in a pan field of computer engineering. Marlowe chuckled to himself as he remembered relenting just enough to minor in Chemistry – a compromise that only mollified Dr. Johansen because the lead Marine Instructor in the Corps informed the well-intentioned chemist that Ian would have a much better career with computers. No one had been happier than Dr. Johansen when Ian presented a paper at the American Chemical Engineering Society conference last year about the use of computers in the construction of chemical analysis and research projects.

So, I take it that Jo arranged my life yet again, Andy said beside Ian, startling the military man.

Uh, how so?

Andy Forest lifted an eyebrow in Spock-like fashion over his safety glasses and smiled. I'm quite sure, given your history with her, that she knows of your background. If she couldn't be here to play mother hen, you were certainly a good second choice.

Thank you. She doesn't help in the lab, does she?

Shaking his head, Forest lined up three test tubes in a vertical rack before he answered. Not usually. I put her to work if she comes in to talk about administrative stuff, and she doesn't seem to mind. But I doubt she would actually like working in the lab full time that much.

You're probably right. Of course, there's also the fact that she is worried about your physical security.

Grimacing, the Gardener picked up a graduated flask and carefully measured out specific amounts of its contents into each of the three test tubes. If I don't need a bodyguard at home, I really don't see why I need one when I'm anywhere else in North America.

Because Joanna's husband died protecting you from a kidnapping attempt in Toronto, you idiot, and now she's protecting you the same way he did, Ian thought. He said, Better safe than sorry, I suppose. A lot happens in Washington that we never hear about, you know, and any innocuous item could be a weapon.

So far as I know, there's never been an umbrella murder.

Maybe we've never heard of it.

I'd know. I'm the one who gets all the chemically and biologically suspicious murders. Like umbrella murders from London.

Not knowing how to counter that remark, Ian stood back and watched as the other man gently carried the rack of three test tubes to the mechanical shaker. Light a bunsen burner over here, the scientist commanded a moment later, indicating with his elbow where he wanted the flame.

Heat is the catalyst? Ian asked, confused at the change in procedure over what had been done the past few times.

For this, yes. I'm hoping that this is a post-exposure remedy.

How did you make that leap of logic? He wasn't incredulous, just fascinated watching the man work.

Forest looked up, confused. I don't have the faintest idea, he admitted after a moment. I just did.

Ian laughed, surprising the scientist. Joanna says the same thing whenever she nails a psych profile.

Psych profile? Now he really was confused.

Sure. She's got a Ph.D. in psychology, remember?

Andy ransacked his memory, looking for an elusive piece of information. No, I don't think she ever told me that. Why would she be working for me if she's got doctorate in anything?

Ian shrugged, realizing that he'd stepped into a mine field. he improvised, maybe she figured that with her background, the two of you could work the system to get more funding...?

Skeptical, the government researcher scowled a little and turned back to his work. Time check! I need a time check on those mice!

Got to talk with Joanna, Ian chided himself. I might have compromised the whole set-up.

**The Agency/Georgetown Portal * 4:10 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Sorry we couldn't get here sooner, sir, Amanda apologized as she and Lee came in to the Bullpen, dressed in ski attire. We promised the boys we'd take them cross-country skiing today since their basketball team didn't make the league playoffs.

No problem, Amanda. We've pretty much been sitting waiting for information anyway. Go change, then there's someone I think you'll both want to meet before we get you updated. Billy nodded toward the knot of agents sitting on the floor in the corner.

Amanda immediately knew who he meant; she pushed Lee ahead of her toward the elevator as he mumbled, 

Move it, Scarecrow. You'll find out soon enough.

Several minutes later, Lee stood over in the same corner, looking down at the daughter a good friend would never see grow up. He had known Marlena was John Randolph's daughter as soon as he heard the name – John's mother had raised him single-handedly after her husband was killed in Berlin on the same day John was born, and John had sworn that his first little girl would be named in honor of her. Even had Lee not known the name he would have known that she was John's daughter at first glance. The toddler sat happily in her mother's lap munching animal crackers and sipping apple juice while Lee studied her. She had John's intense amethyst eyes and his chiseled jaw, his narrow forehead and double-dimpled smile. Those features, Lee had heard from many a woman, were what made John a heartbreakingly handsome man. Those same features on Marlena, coupled with her wavy burnt cinnamon hair – just two shades darker than her mother's, Lee judged – made her a pixie who would, in her time, wring hearts left and right much as her mother still did; the admiring expressions of many of the male agents crowded around proved that.

Marlena looked up, directly at Lee. she squealed, squirming off her mother's lap and bulldozing her way to the shocked agent.

Marlena, not Daddy. Mr. Stetson. Joanna's voice quavered as she tried to correct her daughter.

The little girl stopped short, gazing up at Lee with those incredible eyes. Amanda put her arm around her husband from behind, instinctively knowing that he was going to need the support. She squatted when he did, going down to the child's level.

A small hand reached out, touched the smooth cheeks of the familiar face, looked at the smile. Not Daddy, she admitted softly, tears brimming from her eyes , held in check by long, thick nutmeg eyelashes. Funny Mr. Stetson.

Lee looked over to Joanna, perplexed at Marlena's behavior.

There are a few picture on my night stand - one of you and him in Vietnam, one from the last night of training, our wedding picture. Those are my favorite pictures of him. You just happen to be, well, well reviewed' in the one from training.

Amanda laughed. She knew exactly which picture Joanna meant – one day as she and Lee were packing his apartment for his long-awaited move into the house on Maplewood Drive, she had found a photo showing Lee wearing only a tight Speedo bathing suit and a hand-made sash bearing the words Mr. Scarecrow, while John, fully clothed, had him in a headlock. Lee had been thoroughly embarrassed that she found the picture, and while he had explained truthfully at the time that it was a show at the end of a training session, he had omitted the larger and more incriminating portion of the story until last night. She, on the other hand, dared him to try it again, sort of. At least the Speedo, she remembered teasing him, for me. They hadn't gotten much more packing done that day, by then intent on other activities much more enjoyable than sorting, wrapping, and stuffing boxes.

Funny Mr. Stetson, Marlena repeated, tears gone, replaced with a great big grin. She held out her arms to the stranger whose face she knew so well.

Lee pulled her into his arms, amazed at her immediate trust. Call me Uncle Lee, he whispered hoarsely, realizing that a few tears had escaped his eyes but not caring that someone other than Amanda might see him crying.

she repeated happily. You hug good. She looked over to Amanda with the same smile. Mrs. Unc'Lee? she asked intuitively.

Aunt Amanda, the woman corrected, loving her husband even more as she watched him with this enchanting child.

The purple eyes looked at her carefully, gauging what, only the child could say. After a few seconds, a nod and a confirmation. Without letting go of Lee, the child reached one hand out to touch Amanda's hair. Satisfied, she pecked Lee on the cheek and scrambled out of his embrace, then turned to her mother. Mommy! New friends!

I see that, Marlena. And these new friends and I have some work to do. Will you stay here and play with your toys while Mommy works?

She straightened, coming to a good imitation of . Yes, Mommy. Where Unc'Andy?

We've already talked about this, honey. He'll be here before dinner – with Uncle Ian, remember?

Yes, Mommy. Go work now.

JoJo stood up carefully and stretched, casually aware of the scrutiny her movements brought from the men around her. Yes, Marlena, she replied with a laugh and a quick kiss on her daughter's cheek before she stepped away to join the senior watch command staff in Billy's office.

Francine gave Amanda and Lee a brief but thorough briefing on the situation, adding the latest updates for everyone. Dr. Palmer went to New York this afternoon on the noon flight out of Norfolk; we didn't find out in time to catch him when he landed at LaGuardia, but he has a return ticket for tomorrow night. It's a long shot that he'll use that one if he's involved, but we'll watch the airports anyway. Apparently, he was picked up at LaGuardia by a limo service, but we don't know which one.

JoJo interrupted to give her the name of the service the EDIN project scientists usually used in New York. I wouldn't count on them having a record of his reservation, but I'd bet that the car was either one of theirs or looked like it. Also, you might check to see if he has a reservation at the Manhattan Hotel on 32nd Street at 5th Avenue. That's where the guys usually stay.

Francine nodded as she wrote down the details. I'll send that out in a couple of minutes. Anyway, there is no record of him travelling on any other flight out of LaGuardia; we're checking Newark right now and JFK is going to take a while. Watchdogs 3 and 4 lost the woman in at the Williamsburg Visitor's Center. We've sent out an APB for her and notified the airlines; we also have agents at the Richmond, Newport News, and Norfolk Airports now and the usual teams at Washington National and Dulles.

Billy shook his head. Get someone out to the Raleigh-Durham airport, too, and make sure we've got people watching the trains. Call out the reserves if you need to – that's why we have them. Anything from NSA?

No. No unusual diplomatic traffic and no flash traffic from anyone of ours.

He sighed, not sure if that was good news or bad. Good work, Francine. I hear you have a date tonight. I expect you to keep it.

She stared at him, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. Billy, I can't leave you - 

Francine, did you hear me yell at Lee and Amanda for putting the boys first today? No, of course you didn't. Therefore, it stands to reason that since you were here while they weren't, they can be here while you aren't. You are going on that date, Miss Desmond, if I have to have Colonel Marlowe hog tie you and take you out of here in a tremendously undignified manner. He gasped for air; he would never be able to ramble the way Amanda could.

Yeah, Francine, go ahead. You deserve it, Lee said, supporting the boss.

The beautiful, truly heartfelt smile Francine showed so infrequently danced across her face as she looked at her co-workers and friends. Thank you, she said humbly, overwhelmed that they would care so much as to let her leave for a date in the middle of a national security crisis.

As soon as you've updated the standing orders, go home and get ready, Billy enforced. Anything else?

She shook her head, flashed the smile again, and skipped out of the office, calling in a sing-song voice for the rest of the staff to gather for the latest round of instructions.

Thanks, Billy, Joanna said, watching her through the open blinds over the plate glass window near the door. Ian won't have a choice this way.

Matchmaking that obviously? Lee teased.

I know my Ian. He's hooked. I'm pretty sure Francine is, too. NOTHING stands in the way of love, at least not if I can help it. Grief swept across her features, briefly dulling the sparkle in her eyes.

Amanda, in her tactful way, got JoJo to fill in the long gap between her time in training with Billy, Lee, and Francine, and the inaugural ball.

We'd been married for 5 years and 13 days when John got killed. February 16, 1987. It made national headlines, since an American got shot in anti-gun Canada, but of course it was never billed as a foiled kidnapping.

Amanda and Lee exchanged painful glances, each remembering the impact of that date in their own lives. It also explained why Lee had not known about John's death; he didn't read a newspaper for over a week while Amanda's life hovered in the balance in a California hospital.

JoJo explained about her position with Project EDIN, why it was necessary for her to be undercover as his Personal Security Agent rather than openly the head of security, and the complex relationship she had with Andy Forest. I did not intend to like him, never mind fall in love with him. But I do and I have, which in some ways makes the SPSA tasks easier because it's mutual and he almost always wants me around. In other ways, it makes it very difficult. He tends to think about the project before his own safety and I get torn between wanting to protect him and wanting to let him have his way. That's why I wanted backup when I heard about the Israeli threat. Ian doesn't take no' for an answer and he knows that the objective is to keep Andy safe – end of discussion. He really would hog tie Andy, if he had to. She looked up at Billy, professional and personal feelings mixed in her expression. Dr. Palmer may even know where we are.

Relax, hon. Nothing is going to happen to Dr. Forest. And maybe this whole thing with Dr. Palmer is an innocent affair with a not-so-innocent woman. Looking at the three people around him, Billy knew that his words rang as hollowly to them as to himself, and with an angry sigh, he dropped his head into his hands. We will find them, he said to the desk top. We _will_ find them.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** About the time zones: GMT = Greenwich Mean Time (the Prime Meridian); Eastern Standard Time = GMT minus 5 hours; Israel = GMT plus 2 hours. If it's noon in London (GMT), then it's 7:00 AM in Washington D.C., 2:00 PM in Tel Aviv, and 4:00 AM in San Francisco. This becomes crucial as the story unfolds...

  
  


**Chapter 4 * Interstate 64 between Richmond and Roanoke, Virginia * January 22, 1989 * 5:30 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Dr. Palmer's breakfast companion looked around her at the assortment of people in the truck stop as she waited for the buyer with less visible impatience than she felt. The chemical in her oversized bag, tightly capped and packaged for transport though it was, made her nervous – Palmer had told her of its properties before he gave it to her. At least Palmer himself was out of danger, safely on his way out of the country under an assumed name, from where and to where she was not informed. Her job ended tonight with the passing of the formula and the catalyst to the representative of her clients; she would vanish into middle America, never again appearing as she had to Dr. Palmer over the past three months.

She was impressed with herself that the cigarette she held didn't even shake. Perhaps the only good thing about America, she thought to pass the time, was the cigarettes – menthol, filtered, low-tar, nearly any way you could want a nicotine fix you could find in a convenience store. Not like the long lines in Leningrad for the rotten, medicinal tasting tobacco that made Russian cigarettes vile by comparison.

You really shouldn't smoke, a gruff male voice beside her interrupted. Those things are nothing more than cancer sticks.

Probably true. However, I can afford the treatment.

Here or abroad?

The recognition codes complete, she waved her contact to the chair opposite her. You have the required payment?

I do, and the bonus. You have the information?

I do. And the part that will make it all work.

A waitress came by; the man ordered a cup of coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich. he ordered when she shifted restlessly in her seat. You and I both have long drives ahead of us. You really should eat.

Where am I going?

I don't know, but you are leaving from Nashville. I, on the other hand, must drive to Norfolk for my flight. That was a lie, but she needn't know that.

Tomorrow morning very early. Here comes the waitress; order something.

She missed the brief eye contact and nod he gave to another man at the door as she grudgingly asked for a cheeseburger with fries and a soda; when the waitress left, the man chatted amiably about the weather and the stock market. I lost nearly half a million dollars in the crash of he laughed. None of it real, of course.

The woman just wanted to leave; she knew, however, that until he was finished eating, she would get neither the money nor the plane ticket. He finally quieted when their meals arrived; he took his time and asked for three refills on his coffee before he finally signalled for the check. It's on me, he grinned, looking her over appreciatively. Damn shame we have planes to catch.

Isn't it? she asked, faking interest.

He led her out to his car, where he pulled out a large suitcase and an envelope. You can unzip it a little if you'd like, he said, indicating the bag.

That won't be necessary. She fished in her shoulder bag for the container and the envelope that told how to use its contents. Finding them, she handed them over carefully, reiterating the warning exactly as Dr. Palmer had made her memorize.

Oh, we'll be very careful with this, don't worry, he replied. Would you like help carrying that?

Only for appearances. Maybe we'll look more like lovers passing in the night than what we really are.

He carried the heavy suitcase to her car a few aisles away; taking her suggestion literally, he pulled her to him and kissed her viciously. Then he walked away. She spat in a most unladylike gesture, got in the car, and drove off, speeding west down the highway.

Following a safe distance behind, the man and a companion watched as her car careened out of control on a curve and plunged over the side of a steep embankment. A fireball, larger from the accelerant placed inside the passenger compartment by the companion while the woman sat at dinner with the other man, erupted a brief time later as the two men watched from the shoulder.

Very good, Amahl. No one will ever link her to us. They got back into their car and headed off down the highway, turning off two exits later for the private airport where a small plane waited to take them to Dulles and a non-stop flight to Riyadh, Saudia Arabia.

**Washington, D.C. * 6:30 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Ian Marlowe rang the doorbell nervously – a feeling he had not had in ten years or more when picking up a date. He pulled at the collar of his civilian suit, so unfamiliar in its softness and lack of starched creases. But Joanna had assured him that he looked devastatingly handsome and had sent him off with the same gentle kiss she always had for him, the friendly one that held a tinge of regret at things never come to pass. He only hoped that Francine had similar tastes in men.

When the door opened, there was momentary silence on each side, followed by two people gulping for air as they made eye contact. There was no mistake; Francine and Ian had electricity and chemistry and biology and everything else in the world going for them as they stood staring at each other across the open doorway.

Wo-won't you come in? she finally asked, stepping aside without losing his gaze.

I'm not sure that's a very good idea, he replied honestly when he found his voice a moment later. We might not come out again.

She studied him for a moment, lost in thought, before she nodded and reached back for her coat.

Please, let me help you, he said, taking her fur from her and stepping in just to the edge of the sill. With practiced ease, he held the outer garment in just the right way to help her slip into it, catching a hint of the spicy fragrance she wore. Francine, you look beautiful, he commented softly from behind.

Francine turned with the smile that few people ever saw. You are, she said with difficulty, the most handsome man I have ever seen.

They didn't talk much until they were seated at dinner in a posh restaurant suggested by Amanda Stetson during a frantic consultation when he dropped Andy off with Joanna at the IFF offices. (Andy thought they were the IFF offices; Ian would have known, even had he not met the others at an intelligence briefing, that the film company was a front. But then, he was Naval Intelligence, so it was his job to figure these things out.) Lee had been kind enough to show him the shower facilities and to lend him a spare razor and an iron when Ian realized that he should have gone back to the BOQ _before_ he brought Andy into the city. At least he had had enough foresight to toss the suit into the trunk!

Marlena is really quite a character, you know? Francine said by way of starting the conversation. Three hours later, they came full circle, having discussed their jobs (in so far as they could in a public setting), politics, sports, religion, relationships, and Joanna on the journey through a five course meal.

Yeah, my girls are pretty special. I always figured that Joanna's children would be the closest things to nieces and nephews I'd ever get, so I've undoubtedly spoiled Marlena rotten. But under the circumstances, who can blame me?

No one. I had no idea JoJo had been through so much, Francine said, falling for the compassion in his eyes. I'm surprised you didn't step in.

Ian shook his head ruefully. She is way too much my little sister for me to love her the way she deserves to be loved. Which, I'd say, is a good thing for us, wouldn't you? The dark eyes lit up as he smiled. Because otherwise, I wouldn't be here asking you to dance.

She rose gracefully in her black wrap dress and took his proffered arm to be led to the dance floor. When he took her into his arms as the next song started, the last doubt vanished from her mind. This man would be hers, or she would die trying.

Ian, enjoying the sensation of her so close to him, thought about all the things he would be doing if the woman in his arms were one of his usual dates. But this woman, this incredibly beautiful woman with the golden hair and the sapphire eyes and the ruby lips, this woman was different. He could no more try to get her to invite him in for the night tonight as he would any other date than he could let her go as the music ended. Francine Desmond deserved so much more than that. So he kept hold of her, pulling her closer, whispering in her ear to see her smile and to catch the sparkle of those deep pools of blue as she looked up at him.

When eventually the band finished their last set, Francine unwrapped her arms from Ian's neck with regret evident on her face. I feel like Eliza Dolittle, she laughed, clinging to his arm as he opened her car door a few minutes later.

Before or after?

Just as. You know, after _The Rain in Spain_ bit when she and Professor Higgins dance.

Ah, yes. _I Could Have Danced All Night_, too, my dear.

With the shyness that seemed to come only in his presence, Francine cleared her throat before she spoke again. she started, and waited until he looked into her eyes, we still could. She stepped closer to him, found herself enveloped in his arms again. I have a stereo... She watched, enthralled, as his obvious desire for her warred on his face with something else that she could not quite name but knew was much deeper than animal lust. 

Oh, Francine, he sighed, burying his face against her silken hair. I'm not going to cheapen this night by rushing into anything, he continued after a long silence. And if I go inside with you tonight, I won't come out until morning.

Francine was shocked into stillness against him. No man had ever put his emotions ahead of his physical desires for her before; she found it intoxicating as she listened to his heart thudding in his chest and his breath coming unevenly while he struggled with his decision. After several minutes in his embrace, she realized that she was crying, the power of his gesture unexpectedly laying open her heart to let out some of the pain she kept so tightly under control.

Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, he said when he noticed, reaching out with his pinky to wipe a tear from her long lashes.

She sniffled and shook her head. Please don't apologize, she asked through quiet wheezes, you have no idea how deeply what you just did for me touched me. Another moment passed. That's the first time a man has shown that much respect for me in a very long time. Maybe ever.

Overwhelmed, he kissed her forehead and tightened his arms, not wanting the moment to end. Joanna had described the moment she fell in love with John like this, the burning desire to ravish with kisses and much more coupled with the dizziness of emotional presence and magnified by the stomach churning fear of rejection. Nothing else existed in the moment for Ian except Francine, huddled against him as the spasms of her crying subsided.

She reached one hand up to trace the line of his jaw, his strong cheekbones, his lips with a feathery finger. Kiss me, she demanded softly, trust and desire and forever sparking in the pools of blue blazing at him in the glow of a streetlight above them.

Are you sure? he asked, to give himself time to control his reaction to her touch.

As I've never been befo – 

He cut off the rest of her reply as he touched his lips to hers, feeling the warmth of her breath on his cheek and the suppleness of her lips as they parted, pulling him into the kiss, asking for more and welcoming it greedily. His right hand moved to her head, his left to her waist as the kiss deepened; he felt her hands caressing his arms through his overcoat and the only part of his brain that was still capable of rational thought was grateful for the extra layer between her hand and his skin. In an instant, or so it seemed, he backed away carefully, reluctantly. Francine, if we don't go now, if I don't leave you at home...

She smiled that hidden smile again and kissed him lingeringly, caressing his full lips with hers in a way that left him more aroused than even the kiss a moment before. I know, Ian. Thank you.

He untangled himself from her carefully, helped her get into the car. He was surprised when she reached out her hand and took his right in her left as he drove her home, more so when she asked him not to walk her to the door.

With another teasing kiss through the car window, she explained. If you get to the door, _I_ won't let you leave. She turned and walked away, but turned back to him halfway up the walk. Pick me up at 10 tomorrow for brunch before Marlena's party. We can shop for her then, too.

Ian went back to the BOQ at Walter Reed, where he had a room across the hall from Andy's and from the one Joanna shared with Marlena. He took a very long, very cold shower before he crawled into the hotel-style bed and fell asleep with thoughts of Francine dancing through his vivid, erotic dreams.

**Chapter 5 * Tel Aviv, Israel * January 23, 1989 * 3:00 p.m. (GMT+2)**

Ali stood watch as a group of Jordanian men well covered as permitted and security cleared Palestinians unloaded helium canisters from a delivery truck at the back entrance to the Tel Aviv Holy Land Hotel. The Purim celebration scheduled there for Tuesday was the largest party of its kind in the entire nation; Ali could not bypass the opportunity to wreak havoc and death on such a large scale. Most of the canisters really did contain helium; four of them, however, contained an aerosol of _Botulinum A_ bacteria. These would be set into the air conditioning system on a timer that would shower the droplets over the food and the waitstaff just before the party started.

Others of his hired band were taking calls from parents frantic for party supplies and balloons as Purim approached; from the volume reported, small tanks containing _Tabun_, and if they were very lucky, _VX-2_, would be left in dozens of homes in the Tel Aviv area over the next three days, causing harm to the nation of Israel. His gambit had been a resounding success; it seems parents are always looking for new and different ways to entertain their children.

And then there was the news from Texas. Or, more accurately, his source, who was shortly to be a final, severed link between Project EDIN and the devastation that was about to happen on over 50 _kibbutzim_ along the Mediterranean coast of this country that was a carbuncle on the face of the globe. Perhaps, indeed, Allah had known that the time was not right 10 years ago when the first pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Now, however, all was ready. It would be a glorious beginning to a new _Intifada, _one that would finally eradicate the Jewish nation and its people from earth.

And with any luck, he would send a few of its friends to oblivion, too. If he could only manage one last power play in America, perhaps even today...

he urged his workers in Arabic. We have much work to do!

**Maplewood Drive, Arlington, Virginia * 12:30 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

I'll get it, Grandma! Jamie King hollered when the doorbell rang. His stepfather's description of the unexpected birthday guests left a lot to read between the lines – and if Jamie read it correctly, one of them was a real knockout. He wanted to see them before his older brother could work his considerable teen charms on her. He threw open the door with a grand, Welcome to our house! and was surprised seconds later that it was not the beautiful woman who brought him up short but the adorable little girl with the big floppy bunny.

Hello. You must be Jamie, Andy Forest said, amused that Marlena had the same effect on the teenager as she had had on him for a year and a half.

Uh, yes, I am. You must be Doctor Forest. Jamie stuck out his hand self-consciously. And you're Miss Marley, I guess, he continued, smiling shyly at the woman beside the doctor.

she replied with a beatific smile, taking his hand and squeezing just as a lady should.

A brief tug on the leg of his jeans brought Jamie's attention back to the little girl with the bunny. I's Marlena, she announced proudly.

And I'm Jamie. Who is this? he asked, carefully pointing at the rabbit as he knelt down to her.

she replied with a tone that left no doubt that the answer should have been obvious.

Nice to meet you, Bugs, the young man said, grasping a paw and shaking it seriously.

Marlena giggled and the bond was complete. Jamie ushered the guests in, taking their coats and leading them into the family room, where Dotty greeted them like old friends, made the appropriate fuss over Bugs, and generally made them instant family. Philip came in and fell into conversation with Andy and JoJo after Marlena gave him only cursory attention – she was too wrapped up with Jamie to care much about anyone else.

Amanda and Lee came in about 10 minutes later, apologizing for leaving their guests with strangers.

Oh, nonsense, Amanda, Dotty interrupted. They weren't strangers – just friends we hadn't met yet.

That's right, JoJo emphasized. You all are so gracious to do this. I cannot thank you enough, especially with everything that's going on... She nudged Andy a fraction.  
  
  


Amanda, you cannot possibly know what this means to us, he said, trying to say exactly what was in his heart without letting his brain get in the way. Here we are, one tenuous link from long ago in a city we don't like getting filmed in the middle of – a quick pinch from Jo kept him from revealing too much to Dotty and the boys – a tough situation at work, and you offer not just hospitality but family. That's pretty special.

Amanda blushed and kissed his cheek. It's the least we can do. Now, please, sit and enjoy. Francine and Ian should be here soon, and so should Billy and Jeannie.

Lee sat in his favorite chair in the den, watching the many personalities interact: amused at the glow emanating from Francine and Ian when they came in together; loving the love-hate relationship between Dotty and Billy playing out over the years – albeit mellowed somewhat in the year that she had known the real connections around Billy, the Agency, IFF, Francine, Lee and Amanda; surprised at Jamie's attention to Marlena and not at all surprised at Philip's intense concentration on her mother, half-listening to Andy and Amanda beside him as they caught up on all the news that happens in 18 and more years. Despite the threats from the world, Lee Stetson was a very happy man for the moment, because his wife was the most beautiful, gracious person in the world.

The doorbell rang again a little before 1:30; Lee rose and let in the magician Amanda had hired, showing the high schooler into the dining room that the boys had turned into an impromptu theatre for the occasion. Philip reluctantly tore himself away from Miss Marley to help his friend from school set up, and when the boy was ready a few minutes later, Philip played emcee.

Ladies and Gentlemen, boy and girl, he announced from a prepared card, earning a scowl from his little brother in the process, Allen the Amazing will now fascinate and thrill you with his skills of presti...prestidigitation, whatever that is – 

Magic, you – 

Amanda shushed.

– prestidigitation and prognostication. I present, Allen the Amazing!

Allen really was pretty amazing, especially for a sophomore in high school. Marlena laughed riotously at every trick, which made Jamie laugh, and everybody joined in as the show progressed. Even Dr. Smyth, who arrived halfway through, became infected with the giggle bug.

Amanda and the other adults watched in awe after the show as the birthday girl threw herself in Dr. Smyth's arms and brought tears to his eyes with her kisses. He was a completely different man as he basked in her aura.

Ian couldn't watch. He left the dining room quietly, stepping into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Francine came in behind him, worried, wordless.

He used to be like that with me, when I was her age, he said in a low whisper she almost didn't hear.

You've known him that long?

He looked at her with wide brown-black eyes. He's my uncle, Francine. My mother's older brother.

She watched as he paced, choked back a laugh as he ran his hand through his hair in a gesture long-familiar on another man. What changed?

He stopped his frantic walk in front of her, took her soft, manicured hands in his. My mother got caught in an affair with a young Air Force officer when I was 12. He said she disgraced the family and hasn't spoken to her – and barely to me – since. He even made me stop calling him Uncle Austin.

Perplexed, Francine tried to formulate a rational question out of what she wanted to know. So then how does he know JoJo and Marlena?

Our parents are very close. Austin met Jo's aunt, her father's sister, at a party Mama Marley gave. Can you believe he was actually married – blissfully so! – for a little more than a year. She died of cancer at Thanksgiving within about two months of diagnosis – and then Mom's affair the next summer sort of twisted him up even more. The only times I've ever seen him truly smile since the day Mom confessed to the affair have been in the presence of either Joanna or Marlena. Somehow, Joanna simply stayed in his heart when he threw everybody else out. The admission hurt; he squeezed her hands and pressed his face into them, letting her feel the tears that would not come while he looked at her.

She certainly doesn't like him, though.

Voice muffled in the velvet palms, he clarified. When he stopped speaking to me, Jo told him with all the dignity that a 7-year old could muster that he would have to let me back in before she would ever forgive him. She would see him, spend time with him, love him in her own unique way, but not forgive him for hurting me. She's been true to that ever since, hence the Uncle Smith moniker he so despises. Ian laughed a little. No one was more surprised than her when he showed up for Marlena's baptism after the row they had at our high school graduation. I have no idea what they said to each other at the christening, but he won permission enough to be a part, however small, of Marlena's life, too. So here we are in an absurd situation nearly three thousand miles and twenty five-plus years from where the story started, sitting in a stranger's kitchen talking about the uncle who disowned me and runs your life.

It was a little absurd, Francine acknowledged, to be dating the boss's nephew. But at least there won't be any favoritism...

Ian gave a genuine laugh and kissed the hands that he wanted to be doing far more with than just kissing. Forty five hours and thirteen minutes and already I can't live without you.

Francine looked at her watch. she corrected, and kissed him gently on the lips.

Jeannie nudged Amanda as they strolled into the kitchen together. Outer Mongolia, eh? she whispered.

Amanda stifled a chortle with a tremendous sneeze that didn't quite seem fake.

Bless you, the new lovers said together, still intent on each other.

Thank you, Amanda replied, feeling like she had interrupted something. She didn't leave, though. After all the times Francine had prevented Lee from kissing her early on in their budding romance, turnabout, a least a little, was fair play.

Over chocolate cake and fudge ripple ice cream, Francine watched Dr. Smyth and JoJo carefully. They obviously communicated several times, but not to JoJo's satisfaction, as when he took his leave, the cheek she offered came coldly. Marlena, unaware of the tension between her mother and the man she called , kissed him soundly several times and made him promise to see her soon. Even that passed uncomfortably between the two adults, Miss Desmond saw, as the mask they all knew settled so carefully into place on the Agency leader's face when Marlena went off to play with Jamie.

Who was that man? Jeannie asked carefully when Dr. Smyth was gone. I mean, I know who he was, but where is the real one and do we have to have him back?

That was the real one, Joanna said sadly. And it is a very long story, so please don't ask.

At a quarter to three, Jamie carried a tired Marlena into the family room where the adults sat talking. Miss Marley, Marlena wants to go for a ride.

JoJo looked at a clock and nodded. A nap-time ride, sweetheart?

Marlena nodded against Jamie's shoulder. Jamie come, too.

Can I, Mom? Please? He looked so adorable and so grown up holding the smaller child on his hip as he did.

If it's okay with Miss Marley, then sure, you can go, Amanda said, her heart breaking just a bit as she saw a glimpse of the future still far-off.

Tank you, Aunt'Manda, Marlena said sleepily with a bright smile nonetheless.

You're welcome, Marlena, she replied. You mind Miss Marley, Jamie.

I will, he said softly, and left the room with his charge.

Philip looked after his brother with undisguised envy. Oh, that's very clever, he said, more loudly than he intended. Silence settled on the room as the remaining adults gave him their undivided attention. The fifteen year old smiled nervously, not realizing that he was, at that moment, totally transparent to everyone.

After a minute of silence, Dotty finally gave him a way out of his predicament. Which trick did you just figure out, Philip?

The teen sagged in relief, off the spot, and explained a trick to the group, all the while seething at his little brother for finding a way to spend time with the gorgeous older woman away from the other grown ups.

**Frankfurt International Airport, Frankfurt, Germany * 8:55 p.m. (GMT+1)**

Dr. Frank Palmer, who had discarded that identity three airports ago, stepped off of his fourth airplane in twenty-seven hours, having flown across the United States under his first assumed name, to Singapore under his second, and to Germany under his third. The connections had been oh, so tight, and the fugitive had no reason to think that he would be ending his journey here. Looking out at the multitude gathered at the end of the long ramp, he searched for a sign with his current name on it. He found it, finally, and was surprised that the man holding it actually steered him toward a limousine outside the airport rather than another gate or terminal. As usual, though, the man who met him said nothing, simply directed him with gestures as they reached the train station in downtown Frankfurt. Palmer got out of the car, walked into the expansive structure, and saw another man with a sign. When he reached this second man, Palmer extended his hand as if to greet a business associate; he felt the briefest of stings as the new man shook his hand and passed it off as nerves. A few moments later, new passport and train ticket to Rome in hand, Palmer stopped in the men's room to wash his face. He never exited the restroom; shortly after he dropped to the floor, a janitor retrieved his body and carted it off, erasing another link in the chain to the terrorists in Israel.

**The Streets of Arlington, Virginia * 3:00 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Philip would have been appalled to discover that his brother had hardly noticed how beautiful Marlena's mother was. Jamie, besotted with the three year-old, sat in the back seat and held her little hands in his as she nodded off to sleep in her car seat. He kept up a lively though quiet conversation with Miss Marley as they drove through the neighborhood streets in the comfortable sedan, and he was beginning to realize that, like his mother and Lee, she had some secrets that needed to be kept for safety.

You're Dr. Forest's bodyguard, aren't you? he asked after she told him about her job.

You're a perceptive young man, she replied, impressed with his analytical skills.

Well, I know that Mom and Lee and Miss Desmond don't really work for a film company, either. They work for Mr. Melrose at his agency – but they don't know that I've figured that out, so please don't tell them.

How do you know you didn't just give away a secret to me?

It was a fair question; Jamie swallowed before he answered. Lee showed me some of his old picture albums last night when he was explaining the party to us. I saw a picture of him and Marlena's father in one of them, and I know Lee was in Military Intelligence in Vietnam.

You _are_ a perceptive young man. She looked in her rear view mirror and didn't like what she saw. Jamie, I need you to keep quiet for just a minute, hon. We may have a problem. Several random turns later, the car following them was still there. Jamie, can you tell me the fastest way back to your house from here? she asked, controlling her voice mightily for the young man's sake.

Jamie looked out the window and made a quick assessment. Right at the next stop sign, go six blocks, and turn right again. We're about two miles from the house now.

The attack, when it came four blocks from the Stetson home, was well-coordinated. A station wagon pulled out of a driveway in front of her car, blocking her access to Maplewood Drive, while the chase car and a van boxed her in. Something shattered the front passenger side window, trailing smoke, and that was the last thing Joanna saw as the world shrank to a pinpoint and disappeared with the screams of a terrified teenager ringing in her ears.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you to the SMK SEASON 5 writers, whose canon I have followed as far as it is written into the season at this time. During SEASON 5, a decision was made NOT to tell the boys about Lee and Amanda's line of work, although the marriage is common knowledge and Dotty finally does know what IFF is all about.

  
  


**Chapter 6 * Maplewood Drive, Arlington, Virginia * 3:35 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Marlena must have been really keyed up, Andy commented to Amanda as they cleaned up the remnants of the toddler's birthday party and started to lay out the chips and dips that signalled the start of the adult festivities. Jo's usually back with Marlena in less than 10 minutes.

Jamie's probably showing her the neighborhood. I wouldn't worry.

A toothy grin split his smooth, handsome face and crinkled the area around his slate gray eyes. I can't help it, Amanda. There's another man with her, so I'm insanely jealous because I'm in love.

You noticed, she said in some surprise, laughing off his comment about Jamie being another man. You're more observant than my husband, right, Lee, Sweetheart?

Lee grunted from behind the refrigerator door, then stood up to defend himself. Not more observant. Just more honest with himself. He had long since given up his sensitivity on that subject, admitting to himself, his wife, and his boss that he had been just plain stupid for at least two years, maybe even three. Joanna doesn't think you're aware of your feelings.

The grin became, if possible, wider. Oh, she will. Come Valentine's Day, she'll know I'm aware of my feelings.

Ian come in a few minutes later, expressing some concern over the length of Joanna's absence, as well. Ian's instincts, honed as they were by his training, set Lee's internal alarm ticking.

How about I take a spin around the neighborhood and see if maybe they stopped at the park or something? he asked, more to assure himself than either of the other men.

I'll go with you, Ian and Andy said together.

Amanda shrugged. I don't think there's any reason to worry, but go ahead, you three. Take the Wagoneer, honey.

Lee looked at her with a silly grin. I thought I'd try to fold Andy up and shove him into the back seat of the Corvette, dear. He planted a kiss on her cheek as he brushed by.

Rolling her eyes, Amanda shooed the three agitated men to the front door for their coats and their trek to locate the missing trio. Billy, whose own intuition was niggling at him by now, nodded approvingly, while the three other women traded the universal look with Amanda and went back to the board game they were playing with Philip.

Ten minutes later, the world turned upside down with a phone call from Lee. They found Joanna's car at the park, the window shattered, the interior smelling strongly of tear gas and chloroform, and no evidence of Joanna, Marlena, or Jamie at all.

**Dulles International Airport * January 23, 1989 * 4:00 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

I'm impressed that you brought the car seat, the Iraqi Agricultural Attache said to the two men who unloaded Marlena Marley from the back of the plain blue van.

We didn't have a choice, one of the two growled. We couldn't get the harness unfastened quickly enough, so it was easier to cut the seat belt.

the other grunted. You want to give us a hand here?

Tariq Agazi turned his nose up and took a step away, but relented when he saw the murderous gleams in two sets of American mercenary eyes. He settled on holding the door of the van open as the two men moved a young boy and then an adult woman into the cargo hold of the Gulfstream jet sitting in the hangar behind him.

Wait a minute, he said as they finished with the woman he recognized as JoJo Marley. Why the boy?

The older of the two men shrugged. He was in the car. We don't know and we don't care who he is. You hired us to do a job and we did it. The leer of greed touched his eyes. And now we expect to be paid.

You will get your money.

Oh, but you don't understand. We have a little insurance policy called a ransom note ready to be released if we don't make a call at precisely 4:45 this afternoon. The note gives enough details to make your life extremely difficult – diplomatic immunity notwithstanding.

Reluctantly, the Iraqi admitted to himself that he had been bested. His instructions had been to kill the two men before he got on the plane; under the circumstances, he would have to let them go. The others would just have to understand.

You'll find the money in the case inside the car over there, he finally said, pointing to the rental car with Maryland plates he was driving under a false ID.

The younger man went to the car while the older man, pulled a pistol out of a shoulder holster and trained the weapon on the foreigner. After a few minutes, the man at the car called out, It's all here!

Well, then we'll be going off to make our phone call now. It was a pleasure doing business with you.

Agazi grimaced and turned away from the man with the pistol toward the plane. he replied bitterly, climbing into the cargo hold and out of view.

The two men pulled away in the van a moment later, stopping a safe distance away to watch as the plane taxied away from the hangar toward the flight line. The older man sighed and looked at his partner in the driver's seat. Why do I think we've just signed three death warrants?

Do you care?

Silence followed for several moments as they watched the jet take off and bank away toward the Atlantic Ocean.

Enough to give the cops an anonymous tip, was the answer, quietly delivered as the van picked up speed heading toward the Maryland border.

**The Agency/Georgetown Portal * 5:07 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Dotty West had been the first to recover from the frozen silence that ensued after Lee's abrupt phone call. Well, Mr. Melrose, it looks like I'll get to see what my daughter and son-in-law can do when you all work openly together for a change. Her tone was brittle, cracked like the surface of a skating pond not quite frozen solid.

Amanda started, but Billy placed a hand gently on her arm and stopped her from going on.

Mrs. West – Dotty. We will do everything we can to get Jamie and the Marleys back. I'm going to need some help organizing things, though. Is there a place I can use a phone without interruption?

Calmed somewhat by Billy's tone, Dotty motioned toward the recently converted garage.

Amanda and Francine went with Billy into the new study, which was equipped with a secure phone, facsimile, and connections into the Agency computer network. It was also soundproofed. The three agents worked frantically to get the word out to all the necessary federal and state agencies about the kidnapping, adding Amanda's intuitive leap that this had something to do with Andy Forest and with the attack on Israel where such information could be included.

With that connection, Billy ordered Lee and Ian to take Dr. Forest to the Agency, and decided that everyone else needed to be there, too. He rounded up a worried, protesting Dotty, a scared but defiant Philip, and his own wife in the available cars and led them in caravan to the IFF offices, where the Q Bureau became the command center.

Everyone arrived at about the same time; hugs and assurances were exchanged all around before Billy could pull his own agents and Ian aside long enough to figure out a game plan. Amanda, Lee, I know you weren't going to tell Philip and Jamie about your real jobs yet, but I don't think there's anyway we can keep Philip from finding out this time, Billy opened reluctantly. I need the two of you working on this if you're up to it, and he'll wonder why you aren't waiting with him and Dotty – and why Dotty isn't concerned that you're not there.

He's right, Amanda, Lee said before his wife could object, running his hand through his hair. We could get away with me for a little while, giving a statement, but you weren't there, so we have no excuse for you. Or for Francine.

Ian nodded. Andy already knows that I'm Naval Intelligence and that I'm assigned as his bodyguard for the duration. He may live with his head in the clouds, but he'll put this together very quickly once we start asking questions – if he hasn't already.

The two women traded glances; neither of them wanted to reveal the last secret to Lee and Amanda's sons, but the difference between keeping the secret and doing all they could to save Marlena, JoJo, and Jamie was just too great. Each nodded sadly.

I'll break the news to him, Amanda. And to Dr. Forest.

Billy had returned a few minutes later with a strange smile: Philip, to whom the whole thing was an exciting distraction from his terror, began pumping Mr. Melrose for stories he hadn't really wanted to tell the teen without his parents present for the embarrassment. Andy had just looked at him in shock for a few moments, then nodded and demanded to be part of the analytical team.

So it was that, a little more than two hours after the abduction, when an anonymous tip was delivered via telephone to the local CBS affiliate, Billy was surrounded in his office by Amanda and Lee, holding each other tightly on the couch; Andy, standing stiff and silent by the door, and Francine and Ian, close by Andy with hands loosely and openly intertwined.

at least three voices shouted in unison. Mayhem followed for a few brief seconds as three agents and a bodyguard all tried to dive out the door for telephones in the same instant.

Billy said far more calmly than he felt. When he had their attention, he gave orders. Francine, get the FAA on the line – I want to know the flight plans of every Gulfstream that left Dulles in the last three hours. Amanda, Scarecrow, work with Colonel Marlowe and Dr. Forest to get every scrap of information you can on threats toward him or to Joanna in the past year and a half. Work the connection between Dr. Palmer and all this, too! he added as an afterthought.

Dr. Palmer? Andy asked in utter confusion.

Ian looked up sharply at his charge. She didn't tell you, did she?

Billy waved his staff off to their tasks as Dr. Forest crumpled down to the couch left empty by Lee and Amanda's departure. Jo kept saying she needed to talk to me seriously last night, but all I wanted to do was play with Marlena and goof off with Jo. We played pool until after midnight last night so I wouldn't have to hear her serious talk.

Colonel Marlowe looked at Billy, got a confirming nod, ran his hand through his hair – Billy stifled an inappropriate but tension breaking laugh – sighed and stuttered a couple of times before he could say, Frank Palmer has disappeared and was last seen in the company of a known information broker with ties to both Eastern Bloc countries and terrorist groups, including the PLO and Hamas.

Forest shrank into the sofa, no longer able to hold in the agonizing terror he had felt for the last three hours. The news about Palmer broke him, but even through the bitter tears of self-recrimination, he was able to confirm for Billy and Ian what Joanna had said the day before. It's got to be the polysulphuric ionization effect. It sterilizes soil down to bedrock and has a half-life of twenty years, we think.

Is it radioactive? Billy asked with alarm.

No, no, not at all. In this case, half-life refers to the stability of the chemical bond under average environmental conditions. At the moment, we don't have a solution for this. Andy went on to explain how the chemical worked and what would be necessary for a group to use it; when the chemist was finished, Billy told Francine to get the Mossad section chief for the Washington diplomatic corps in for a full briefing as soon as possible.

Up in the Q Bureau, with Jeannie Melrose lending silent support, Amanda brought Jeannie, Dotty, and Philip up to date on the leads the agents now had. Then she laid down the law. Mother, you and Philip are going to stay in a safe house tonight. I've talked to Joe and told him as much as we know, and he and Carrie will be picked up to stay at the safe house, too. Don't worry about our house; Lee and I will get what you need.

What about school tomorrow? Philip asked hesitantly.

Mother looked at son, her professional demeanor slipping as she saw Jamie's face in Philip's expectant visage. I don't know, she said softly, looking away and wiping a tear off her cheek.

Yes, Sweetheart?

Jamie is okay, her older son declared. I can feel it – just like I could feel that you were okay when you ran off to get Lee out of trouble.

Amanda just opened her arms and engulfed her son, sobbing openly for the first time since Lee called with the news. Dotty joined them, wondering aloud if the national security of the United States was worth this heartbreak yet again.

Philip glared at his grandmother. Jamie is okay, Grandma. And yes, the United States is worth this. Mom wouldn't do what she does if she didn't think so, and neither would Lee or Mr. Melrose.

Dotty accepted her grandson's admonition without comment, marvelling yet again to herself that despite the unorthodox life her daughter had led in the past five and a half years, her grandsons seemed to be none the worse for wear, and indeed, better for it – Jamie's abduction aside. So she kissed her daughter's teary cheek and her grandson's cool forehead and prayed fervently for a quick and positive resolution to the situation.

**Over the Atlantic Ocean * 8:38 pm Mid-Atlantic Time (GMT-4)**

JoJo woke to her daughter's incoherent moaning beside her. It took her several long moments to get her bearings as she tried to shush Marlena; she gave up when she realized that there was tape over her mouth – which was just about the same time that she realized that she was securely tied into the jump seat in which she rested. Her head throbbed when she opened her eyes to the dimly lit cabin of the Gulfstream and she kept them open only long enough to lay eyes on Jamie King, tied up beside her in the other jump seat and mercifully still immobile and unaware.

Marlena's moaning brought attention to the threesome; the sounds of a tall, Mediterranean featured man coming toward them made JoJo open her eyes, only to see an evil leer on his face. Ah, you've awakened, he said in precisely clipped British-accented English. That's probably not for the best; you might have been more comfortable remaining unconscious.

JoJo merely nodded in agreement; Marlena shrank back from him and tried to scream through the duct tape over her mouth.

So sorry, little one. You'll just have to suffer. I just cannot abide the wails and fussing of an irritated child on an airplane, can you?

JoJo recognized him as he kept up a steady stream of inanity – the Iraqi Agricultural Attaché, the man who had pulled Andy away from the group just before Mr. Bush arrived at the ball. The nightmare only got worse when the man noticed that Jamie was awake, staring silently at JoJo with tears in his eyes.

The mystery child. You're certainly not a man if you're crying like that. I don't know why I bothered to let them load you on the plane. I should have just killed you and those two. But then their fail-safe – if they really had one – might have gotten us unwarranted attention from all the wrong people. He paced half the length of the plane each trip, rambling about how his employers would be so appreciative and how foolproof his plan was. This would guarantee that Israel would cease to exist in less than a week because the Gardener would be so distraught by the disappearance of his lover and her child that he could not work effectively to counter the measures already set in motion. And since no one knew that anything was set to happen, the world would be taken by surprise.

Jamie just looked at the man in horror, unable to process the magnitude of the plans he revealed. JoJo, professional through and through, let her natural ability to record information take over and simply observed the man as she worked surreptitiously to free her hands. She had no thoughts of escape; she simply wanted to put her arms around her daughter and to comfort the poor teen across the aisle who had trusted her to be a safe driver but now needed her to be so much more.

After working through several minutes of the man's pacing and rambling. JoJo finally had her hands loose from her bonds. When Agazi turned his back to start the path away from his captives, JoJo quickly moved her hands around to her face and tore off the duct tape from her mouth, wincing silently at the pain that came from ripping delicate hairs out, too. She kept the silence for several more minutes as the man continued his agitated behavior. Obviously, he wasn't paying too much attention to his captives.

JoJo finally spoke when she recognized an all too familiar expression on Marlene's pensive face. Uh, excuse me, but I think you'd better let me take my daughter to the lavatory, she said to the man's back.

He spun around, frightened and revealing just how out of his depth he really was. How – wha – yo – NO! he fumbled, covering the distance from the apogee of his path to the perigee in two long strides.

Please trust me on this. You really want me to take her to the lavatory, and you've got about 60 seconds to cut her free before...

Jamie's eyes went wider, something he hadn't thought possible, when he realized what exactly the young girl's mother was trying to say. It hurt; and he realized that he had his new contacts in and didn't have his glasses with him. The thought of not being able to see pushed his fear up, and he shrank back in his seat as far as his bindings would allow while their captor focused on Ms. Marley.

After a very brief internal dialog with himself, the Iraqi admitted with disgust that JoJo had an excellent point. He swore forcefully in three languages – words that JoJo recognized – and two others that she could surmise meanings from as he used a large utility knife to slice through the ropes holding Marlena immobile in her car seat.

JoJo saw the look of shock and loathing in the man's eyes as she reached out to pick Marlena up out of the seat. Interesting, she mused as she cradled her unnaturally silent daughter against herself, Mr. Agazi hadn't quite put the absence of my gag together with the fact that my hands thus had to be untied. Out loud to the little girl, she asked, Potty, honey?

Marlena nodded vehemently through her fear, violet eyes huge in her pale, sweaty face.

She needs water or juice, and so does the boy, JoJo commanded as she turned toward the lavatory behind her. I doubt your masters would be happy with two dead American _children_.

The man glared at her back, irritated at her calmness and at her perception. Needing to hurt someone, he stepped over to Jamie King and ripped the silver tape off the boy's mouth savagely, eliciting a scream and hot, stinging tears from the young man.

The ripping sound and Jamie's subsequent scream echoed through the lavatory, making JoJo wince in sympathy. Marlena moaned behind her own gag; clearly she wanted to talk, but JoJo wasn't wasn't sure she could put her little girl through the torture, however brief, of removing the tape. With a sigh, she started to explain the scream. Honey, that was Jamie. It hurt him very much when the man took the tape off his mouth. Do you want – 

Marlena reached out and took her mother's hand, brought it to her own mouth.

This is going to hurt. More than a bandaid. A lot more. It's okay to cry if you need to, she tore in one swift movement, when I take the tape off.

Marlena whispered with dry eyes and a huge smile. Go to Jamie. Wipe me, please.

Wondering at her daughter's fortitude, JoJo did as requested. She helped her little girl get her hands and face washed – evoking a giggle by creating matching bubbly beards on their faces in the process – and picked her up to carry her back into the cabin that was their prison cell.

JoJo was surprised to see that Jamie had also been untied, and more so that he was alone in the back of the plane. Marlena practically leapt from her arms into the teen's lap as JoJo shot the boy a questioning look.

Jamie hugged Marlena close and replied to JoJo's look around the tiny hands that tried to soothe the angry welts left when Jamie's gag had been so violently removed. I told him we'd have to be pretty stupid to try to escape at 30,000 feet.

For the first time in what felt like months but was, according to her watch, only 4 hours and 45 minutes, JoJo felt like laughing. She leaned down and kissed Jamie's cheek. Lee Stetson may not be your biological father, but he certainly has trained you well.

**Georgetown Portal, The Agency * 8:50 p.m. EST (GMT-5) **

Lee! Virginia State Police may have a lead for us! Francine ran through the Bullpen waving a long strip of thermal paper from a fax machine. Breathlessly, she skidded into Billy's office, interrupting several things: Ian, Amanda, and Andy indexing threats received against Project EDIN and its staff; Billy studying Andy's latest report on suspected Soviet biochemical production; and Lee pacing and blaming himself for the disappearance of Jamie and the Marleys.

Lee snatched the paper from her before anyone else could react.

They found the burned out remains of a car whose Vehicle Identification Number matches the one assigned to the license plate on the car our guys in Newport News got pictures of – the one that information broker who met with Dr. Palmer was driving.

Andy whooped, as much to relieve stress as anything, knowing that this was just one tiny piece of a much larger puzzle.

Don't get your hopes up, Doctor, Billy warned. This may be a dead end if we can't pick up a thread from here. He took the fax from Lee, scanned it. Scarecrow, you and Amanda get on the phone with the Richmond and Roanoke offices – let's see if she stopped anywhere along the way. Get them pictures ASAP. Francine, check the airlines – let's see if this woman had reservations on a plane leaving Roanoke, Knoxville, or Nashville. And bug the FAA while you're at it for an update on those Gulfstreams. Colonel Marlowe, call the NSA and see if they've got anything in the past week's diplomatic traffic that might give us an edge. And you, Doctor Forest, need to go to the safe house with the Kings and Mrs. West. I promised the boys at the Pentagon that you'd be ready for your briefing with them at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning, whatever the situation here.

Mr, Melrose, uh, I really ought to go with him, Ian said. He is, after all, my responsibility. And JoJo will murder me in cold blood if anything happens to him.

Billy looked thoughtfully at the Marine for a long moment. All true. Okay, after you talk with NSA, take him out to the house. Let's move, folks.

Ian hit pay dirt thirty minutes later. The NSA transmitted the translated tapes from the previous Monday through Saturday midday into the Agency's sophisticated monitoring equipment. Instinctively, Ian focused on the tapes from the Middle Eastern embassies and the third tape he scanned had the conversation between Tariq Agazi and the men in Baghdad and Tehran from the night of the inauguration. All Ian had to hear was to know he had the next clue.

Down in the sound lab, the group gathered to listen to the chat, unnerved by the uninflected tones of the translators speaking such cold words. The NSA couldn't ID the voices in the original tape, but when Ian switched back to the Arabic original, Andy Forest recognized one right off the bat.

Good work, Colonel. Get him out of here – and as soon as you're finished at the Pentagon tomorrow, please come back. We'll need you again if they'll let you go. Ian nodded and dragged the biochemist out, ignoring the quiet protests Andy offered as proof that he could stay the night and still be okay for the morning.

Stubborn, isn't he? Lee asked, earning a long-suffering sigh from his wife and broad grins from Billy and Francine.

Where do we go from here, sir? Amanda asked, leaning against the arm of the chair in which her husband sat.

You two are going to pay a visit on the Iraqi Embassy. I'm sure you can come up with a good reason to try to see this attache Dr. Forest met the other night. Francine, get someone to transcribe this tape and get our own translation of the tape, too. Do it yourself if you have to – your Arabic is good enough. I want to know everything the NSA and CIA know about the other two men on that tape, so get on that, too. I'm not liking this, not at all.

What about the tip the TV station received? Any further word on who might have called it in? Lee ran his hand through his hair before he wrapped his arm around Amanda.

No. The team we sent out to Dulles couldn't even pinpoint the hangar conclusively. Too many were closed up for the night. We start over at sunrise tomorrow. Billy looked each of his agents in the eyes. We'll get them back. I just hope the Mossad and the CIA can stop the Agagites before they release anything.

**Tel Aviv, Israel * January 24, 1989 * 6:37 a.m. (GMT+2)**

Ali smiled at the map hanging in his flat on the outskirts of the city. Business had boomed yesterday as parents made last minute arrangements for Purim parties; his men had delivered 42 canisters of aerosol _Tabun_ to houses around the city; he thought with delight at the prospect of balloons popping, spreading the lethal gas droplets all over the city. The _VX-2_ production had been slow, but that would still be delivered to a few small gatherings at public places during today's runs. Preparations at the hotel had gone as he envisioned. His contact in the security division of the Mossad, a deep cover Soviet mole, he suspected, had done the final clearance himself, certifying for the Prime Minister's staff that the arrangements were adequate.

The information from Dr. Palmer proved to be sent from Allah. Even now, some of his well-placed, most trusted men were transporting sprayer tanks to a half-dozen airfields around Tel Aviv for arial spraying before the holiday started at sundown. Timed just right, the devastation would not be noticed until tomorrow, or on some kibbutzim, perhaps even Wednesday.

Only one piece was not perfect. The idiot contact at the embassy in Washington hadn't followed out his orders as instructed and had left a few – albeit very loose – threads that the Americans just might get lucky enough to pull in the right way to unravel the kidnapping plot. The telephone conversation between the kidnapper and Ali had been pointed while the Gulfstream refueled in the Azores: A boy?

A boy. I don't know who he is, and he won't say more than his first name. But he appears to be very close to the Marleys.

Complications. Take him off the plane and get him into enough light that your contact can get a picture of him. Maybe we can turn this to our advantage.

That had been an hour ago. The fax copy of the Polaroid wasn't great, but it was good enough to start with. Ali had intelligence specialists in two countries working on an ID, and hopefully soon they would have enough to release the ransom note. CNN would make an excellent tool in this regard. The only question left was whether to wait until he had the Marleys and the mystery boy safely in his possession or to release the note as soon as he knew who the boy belonged to. Or perhaps to wait until after the first incident tonight, when confusion would be heightened. So many options, so much destruction. It was promising to be a very good day – as long as the Americans didn't get lucky.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** As with all things fictional, I'm taking liberties, making sundown a little later than it would be in January for the purposes of the story. And I promise not to make you wait too long for the next chapter or two – and the conclusion.

  
  


**Chapter 7 * Jerusalem, Israel – Mossad Headquarters * 7:00 a.m. (GMT+2)**

Ariel Steinmetz hated the fact that he had a job to do. He didn't hate his job – no, in fact, he enjoyed it very much and was extremely good at it. What he despised was the fact that his country had so many enemies that his job as Chief of Internal Counterintelligence was crucial to its continued existence. This morning was no exception.

A little less than seventy-two hours after his Tel Aviv network got wind of the possible biochemical attack during Purim, he had precisely no more information. It was as though someone had stuck a lot more than a finger into the crack in the dam, thereby shutting down the leak in the terrorists' information reservoir and leaving him high and dry – when he most needed to be practically drowning in facts.

he spat toward his desk in total aggravation, I need to stop thinking in similes and metaphors. The phone rang at his elbow. He listened intently for several long minutes as his section chief on the West Bank ran down his newest leads, none of which, Steinmetz thought, helped him in the least with the Tel Aviv situation. Okay, thanks. Keep your ears open and the minute you hear _anything_ that might remotely connect in with this thing in Tel Aviv, let me know.

Great, he thought, staring at the silent phone, now we're getting ready for another uprising among the Palestinians. Peace, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the human race... Then the phone rang again, and a smile creased his craggy face as he recognized the voice of his Tel Aviv section chief.

News? Do you have news? The smile faded; one promising lead overnight led nowhere and beyond that, nothing. An interesting fact, though: helium balloons seemed to be the big party item this year, and two new companies were doing very well in the business of tank rentals.

Who started that trend?

There was an article several weeks ago in the local paper about new ways to decorate and celebrate the holidays. My wife has two tanks at home and is planning a balloon per person. We're all going to pop them when we get to the part in the Megillah where Haman hangs.

Well, my friend, you'd better have supplemental oxygen handy with all that helium being released at once, Steinmetz laughed. Every hour I want a report. Hearing the affirmative, he hung up the phone and pulled out a scratch pad to draft a report to Washington. As an afterthought, he appended the idea about the balloons to the report, knowing that the man who served as his primary contact at the CIA had children who would celebrate Purim.

**Langley, Virginia/CIA Headquarters * 1:05 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Incoming flash traffic from Jerusalem, Leo, the watch duty officer said to the semi-comatose figure stretched out on the long couch in a cramped office on the 7th floor.

Uh... okay, thanks, Jack. Groggily, Leo Barlevitz sat up and wiped at his eyes. He checked his watch; these should be the morning reports, he thought anxiously. Suddenly wide awake, he sprang up from the sofa and sprinted down the hall toward the elevator, waited impatiently for the doors to open and more impatiently for the interminable trip to the fourth subterranean level and the watch communications room.

All the recognition codes checked; Barlevitz listened attentively as Ariel Steinmetz's German accented Hebrew shot information out at breakneck speed. Barlevitz laughed about the helium balloons; he debated whether to include that or not in his update to the Agency, then decided to go ahead. Might as well give them a few laughs, since there's nothing else in there, he thought as he finished the official interagency communique a half hour later. He would look back on that decision later with great pride.

**The Agency * 1:45 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Billy had gone to the safe house with Jeannie to keep Dotty and the boys company, taking Francine with him both because she needed the rest and because he wanted to play matchmaker again. Lee and Amanda took over his office off the Bullpen at 11:00, studying the bits and pieces of information coming in now from the Virginia State Police and several city police forces, as well as more signals intelligence (SIGINT) from the NSA and relays from the FAA updating the status of the three Gulfstream jets that left Dulles for international destinations.

Lee, we're putting together a jigsaw puzzle and we don't know how many pieces there are or what it's supposed to look like when we're done, Amanda had complained at one point when information overload hit. Other than I get my son back.

he remembered saying, taking her into his arms and hugging her tightly. OUR son will be fine. Joanna is a professional – she'll take good care of him, whatever happens. And besides, she's a mother herself. Mama bears tend to be protective of _all_ the cubs they have to protect.

Amanda had laughed, and relaxed against him for all too brief a moment before the next wave of information hit. That was less than three hours ago; since then, they'd each been able to grab a half hour of fitful sleep alone on Billy's couch and an hour of good sleep together on the same couch, spooning as they usually did in their own bed at home.

When the update from Barlevitz at CIA came in, Lee held it while Amanda read it with him over his shoulder. he summarized. Not a blessed thing.

Instead of agreeing, Amanda took the two page summary from her husband and reread it carefully. She seemed to concentrate on the second page, especially the last couple of paragraphs.

What is it, Amanda? he finally asked, knowing that she was thinking about something big.

Lee, do you remember what Andy said in his briefing on Friday? About all the suspected weapons being capable of delivery as aerosols?

Vaguely. He kind of lost me on that part, to be honest.

Okay, here's the important parts. _Tabun_ and _VX-2_ can both be delivered as aerosols – like hairspray or cooking spray. That means that basically, the contaminants form droplets that spread the poison. _Botulinum A_ can also be spread that way. So what's to prevent someone from putting one of these agents into a helium tank and spreading the terror that way?

Lee stared at her until she looked up at him with her quizzical smile.

Well, Scarecrow?

Amanda, you're brilliant! Let's get Andy in here to tell us whether this makes sense.

Amanda shook her head. I think we can do this over a secure line. The man does have a briefing in seven hours, after all.

You're right. Let's go. He caught her as she swept by and kissed her lingeringly. When this is all over...

She smiled at him, only a trace of her worry about Jamie evident in her eyes. Yeah, when it's all over...

**The Agency Safe House/outside Silver Spring, MD * 2:00 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

Amanda, I think you've just found the key to this all, Andy confirmed when he heard her thoughts on the helium and balloons. Latex would hold up long enough for the problem to go unnoticed until the popping started, and once it did, then there would be far too much pandemonium for anyone to make sense of things for quite a while.

So what do we do about it? Lee asked from the Agency communications center.

Billy could visualize the hand going through the thick brown hair as Lee spoke; it made him smile grimly in the safe house. We get on line with the Mossad and give them every ounce of help we can.

It's less than 9 hours to sundown and the start of Purim in Israel, Billy, Francine yawned. What about the ones they don't find, if Amanda is even right?

I think we go to plan B. Andy Forest's voice was hard but hollow. I need to be in Israel as soon as I can get there, and my team needs to come with me. There's a chartered Concorde waiting at Dulles and we can be airborne from Walter Reed in 60 minutes and on the ground in Haifa 5 hours from takeoff.

Who gives you the authorization? Billy asked, knowing that the doctor was right.

National Command Authority. The President.

I'll get Dr. Smyth to okay the request to Mr. Bush. Meanwhile, Lee, get on with what's his name, Steinmetz, at Mossad HQ and let him know what we've come up with, and conference in the CIA so they can't say we kept them in the dark. Ian, I presume you go with Dr. Forest? Billy looked across the kitchen table at the tousled officer who still looked to be asleep even though he was furiously scribbling notes of the meeting.

Yes, sir. Where he goes, I go, until Jo relieves me. He left the rest of that thought unspoken. Jo _would_ be back to relieve him.

I'm sending Francine with you. There was no protest, only a relieved exchange of glances between his agent and the Colonel. Lee, Amanda – we'll get permission to go to airborne command status, so be prepared to get yourselves to Andrews. Keep me posted.

As quietly as they could, the two men and one woman leaving for Israel packed up their few belongings and readied themselves for the supersonic journey while Billy did the one thing he despised most about his job that didn't involve the death of an agent: waking Dr. Smyth up. Surprisingly, Joanna's overgrown penguin didn't bite his head off; he was actually almost friendly as he gave Billy permission to contact NCA with Dr. Forest. It didn't last, of course. Get my niece back, Melrose, and her daughter, too, or you'll wish you were Haman when the hangman's noose tightens.

**An airfield somewhere on the Mediterranean * 11:50 a.m. (GMT+2)**

Joanna Marley blinked as she stepped out into the bright light of a Middle Eastern winter day. The wind was dry and raw coming off a nearby desert, but she could tell by the greenery around that they were reasonably close to a source of water. Only when she could see the hangar off in the distance did she confirm that their captors had actually brought them to the Middle East – a brave move, she thought.

Tariq Agazi pushed her from behind and she stumbled down a couple of steps before she found her balance again. Marlena cried out in her arms, afraid of falling. She heard Jamie behind her coming down the stairs slowly; she was very proud of him for holding out, not giving the Iraqi any information beyond his first name when it would have been so easy for the boy to tell everything he knew or suspected about his mother and stepfather. Now that they were on solid ground, though, and likely to be turned over to more seasoned professionals, she worried for the young man. He was so vulnerable – not that she herself wasn't, but at least she was trained and had some psychological weapons of her own to use if torture ever came into play.

Two men came out of the hangar toward the small group; both were armed with the Israeli contribution to mankind's ability to kill each other, the Uzi. And unlike their host on the plane, both of these men looked like detached professionals to Joanna's trained eyes. That was both good and bad – good in the sense that there was a reasonable chance they as captives would be well treated, but bad because there would be little chance of manufacturing an escape.

Both men trained their guns on Joanna, Marlena, and Jamie as they came to stand at the base of the stairs; their conversation in Farsi with the Iraqi was short but heated and at the end, the diplomat boarded the plane again and pulled up the stairs. Herding their new charges along, the men moved the group into a small, warm room at the back of the hangar as the Gulfstream took off overhead. 

the older one commanded, pointing to two arm chairs. We bring food and water soon. You do what we want, we not hurt you. The English wasn't perfect, but the directions and intent were clear. They left again, locking and bolting the door behind them.

Where are we? Jamie whispered from the chair next to her. Marlena had climbed into his lap and was burrowed in against his chest. It was hard for Joanna to know just who was gaining strength from whom.

I think we're in Israel, or maybe Lebanon. Probably Lebanon, come to think of it. It would fit with the rest of this whole stupid scenario.

A smile touched the haggard teen's eyes as he replied, You mean the one you can't tell me about because then you'd have to kill me?

She laughed. Amanda Stetson was one lucky woman to have a son like this. Well, under the circumstances, I could probably get away with taking your firstborn son as insurance.

What's gonna happen next?

I don't know, Jamie. They may have figured out who you are by now, but if they keep asking, you may have to give in. I want you to worry about staying alive and unhurt. Don't hold out to be brave – I already know how brave you are. And if they threaten Marlena, you and I will both give in, hear me? He nodded. If, on the other hand, they come after me, you keep your lips sealed and Marlena from seeing as much as you can.

You're a lot tougher than you look? he asked with a grin.

You might say that. And you need to eat whatever they bring – no picky eaters allowed. That goes for you too, Miss Marlena Randolph Marley.

Yes, Mommy, the little girl murmured against Jamie's shirt, nearly asleep.

Even the green beans?

You're more likely to get olives, Jamie, but yes, even the green beans if that's what you get.

He sighed. They were silent until after their new guards returned with a meal of bread, olives, cheese and oranges, along with several bottles of water. Surprisingly, they were left alone again. JoJo split the food into portions, giving Jamie the largest share. She wasn't displeased at all with what either child ate; in fact, she gave Marlena some of her own portion when the girl said she was still hungry. 

They settled more comfortably in their chairs, content to a small degree once fed and hydrated. Marlena drifted off to sleep, now in her mother's lap again. The room hummed with the noise of an efficient heater in the corner, with only the rhythmic breathing of three tired people breaking the monotony.

Miss Marley? A weak, exhausted question.

Yeah, Jamie? The reply, also a question, also weak and exhausted.

I'm terrified.

So am I, sweetie. So am I.

**Over the Western Mediterranean * 11:45 a.m. GMT**

Andy's EDIN team had been airborne in forty minutes from NCA approval to go, which was three minutes after Billy called the White House. They had been in the air for three hours and five minutes flying as fast as the Concorde could go; a little less than half an hour ago their only scheduled refueling stop in Aviano, Italy, had been all of 10 minutes from touchdown to wheels up. Andy had never seen so many fuel trucks in one place before, never mind so many working at once. 

He had decided to brief the team first, since the rush to get the team to Dulles from their hotel had awakened them to the point that sleep wouldn't have come immediately. They were professionals, every one of them, culled from the very best of the military and civilian research institutions as well as the Army Corps of Engineers, the SeaBees, and a few other prime disaster relief and mitigation specialist services. All of them knew the risks entailed in their assignment, and all of them were volunteers. Andy was very happy to tell them that he had, indeed, found a better protective agent than the one in use in the military CBW protocols. In the pit of his stomach, he knew that, even if Amanda Stetson's incredible intuitive leap turned out to be the right one, people were going to die in Israel tonight. He didn't want that at all; if he could keep his men from being among them, he would settle for that small measure of relief.

He worried about Ian and Francine. Both were obviously very good at their jobs, but their jobs did not include dealing with weapons of mass destruction on an intimate level. And if anything happened to Francine, well, he didn't want to think about Ian's wrath, or that of Billy Melrose or the Stetsons, either. Something happening to Ian was unthinkable; Jo would...

JO! He thought miserably. Somebody got you to get to me, and because of me, Marlena and little Jamie King are mixed up in this, too.

Ian noticed the disheartened expression on the doctor's face and carefully extricated himself from Francine's sleeping form, moved across the aisle to talk to him. Hey, Doc, he said gently, clasping the frazzled man on the shoulder.

Colonel Marlowe, Andy replied, still a little dazed at the thought of his girls in the hands of unknown men.

Ian, if you don't mind, he reminded the other man with a small, sad smile.

Andy returned the sad smile. Ian. Please, have a seat.

Ian sat down in the luxurious seat beside Andy and stretched his legs out. You were thinking about Jo and Marlena, weren't you?

Andy nodded. And Jamie, too, but mostly Jo and Marlena. It's my fault, you know.

What do you mean? Never mind that Ian half believed the man.

I've been so stubborn in not having a personal guard, saying that I'm invulnerable now because everyone knows that I've got good security. Do you know why I really won't have a bodyguard under normal circumstances, Ian? The Marine shook his head; the scientist continued. Because there's a woman with a small child somewhere in America who is a widow because her husband gave his life to save mine. Do you know the kind of guilt I carry with me everyday?

Forest doesn't know! Ian's mind screamed. He doesn't know that the man who died in Toronto was Joanna's husband and Marlena's father. Why doesn't he know? Why didn't you go to the funeral?

Oh, please – I tried! But SPSA decided that I was much too vulnerable and exposed just then. They put me under what amounted to house arrest for the next six months and on a very tight leash after that until Jo came along and made them slack the reigns a bit. The best I could do was a bouquet and a card that said In deepest sympathy for the Randolph family'. SPSA is incredibly tightlipped about its operatives' private lives.

Ian thought back to the day before John and Joanna's wedding, when the head of the SPSA informed the couple that, although their marriage was just fine with all concerned, it was felt by the coordinating committee that Joanna should continue to be Joanna Marley for public consumption. The news made precisely three times Ian could remember that Joanna didn't get her way after both a rational, heated debate and a temper tantrum that would have done any two year old proud. The fourth and last was a couple of days before Marlena was born, when the same man informed the couple that their as-yet-unborn and unnamed child could bear its mother's name, not its father's. There were only three people alive in the world who knew that Marlena's baptismal certificate didn't read Marlena Randolph Marley as was said by the minister at the christening – Joanna, Ian, and the minister. With a sigh, he acknowledged the doctor's words. You're right. I don't mean to be judging you, Andy. And I think I can safely say that Jo and Marlena and Jamie are just fine under the circumstances. Jo's a lot tougher than she looks.

Andy Forest's face almost relaxed into his usual easy grin. Yeah, I know. The head of security for our lab tried to prove a point to her one day about walking alone late at night. He was in the hospital for a week.

That's my fault. A piece of advice for you: NEVER tell Jo there's something she cannot do, because she'll find a way to do it to spite you.

You earned a black belt in Karate and told her she'd never be that good?

Tai Kwan Do. She did it in half the time.

Forest laughed, a real heartening sound against the stress of their mission and the happenings of the past 12 hours. You really have been her big brother. You know, I honestly thought the two of you would get married after your visit last summer.

Nah. We've been family too long. Marlowe looked at the other man seriously. When you see her the next time, you tell her how you feel. No more waiting. It's not worth it.

I know. I promise.

And, Andy...

It's not your fault.

**Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland * 5:00 a.m. (GMT-5)**

Command Eagle One, you are cleared for takeoff on runway 3 Right, destination Haifa, Israel. Good luck. Tower out.

Amanda had always been unnerved to hear the chatter of the cockpit and tower when she flew; today, it didn't faze her at all. She was too wrapped up in the what ifs of kidnapping and terrorism to notice. Neither she nor Lee had slept, but when Billy arrived at Andrews from the safe house, he said he'd actually had about 3 hours of sleep – most of it in the car. 

Dr. Smyth had given very willing permission for them to go airborne. 'Be off, kiddies, and stay out of trouble,' Billy had mimicked to Lee and Amanda as he stumbled up the steps into the command 747. He was already asleep again in the plush seat across the wide aisle from her.

Lee slipped into the seat beside his wife, red-eyed and groggy. I talked with Joe. He agrees with Billy that Philip should stay at the safe house until we know who has Jamie. He said they'd had a quiet night after Dotty finally stopped rambling about this, that, and the other thing trying to keep everyone from thinking about the predicament.

That's my mother, Amanda replied with a yawn. I'm surprised that no one slipped her a Mickey.

Lee smiled at his wife. Joe hinted strongly that someone might have done just that. And Carrie said to tell you that she's praying for all of us.

You talked with Carrie? The boys' stepparents hadn't really interacted much, although Lee and Joe were getting to be pretty good friends after some initial jealousy, and she really did like Carrie.

She answered the phone. And when this is all over, we're all invited to their new house for a party. ALL of us.

She liked Carrie even more, suddenly. That's wonderful. Any word from the Mossad?

Lee shook his head, closed his tired hazel eyes tight, wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. Nothing conclusive yet. They checked out the two companies that did the most business with the helium balloons and tanks, and both of them seem to be legitimate. Apparently there's some debate in the Cabinet as to whether or not to alert the public.

Amanda's eyes widened, but she didn't reply. Her husband couldn't change the minds of the Israeli leaders, and neither could she. She reminded him to fasten his seat belt, then relaxed as best she could into his arms to sleep for a while before the nightmare took its next awful turn.

**Somewhere in the Middle East * 3:00 p.m. (GMT+2)**

Jamie, I can't believe you managed to save Bugs. Can I tell you how happy that makes me?

Aw, Miss Marley, it's okay. I just thought Marlena might feel a little less scared with him than without him. Jamie, refreshed a little after lunch and a nap with Marlena curled up in his lap, was pacing the small room while the still sleeping girl lay draped across her mother.

It never even crossed my mind.

He smiled shyly, but the smile fled quickly as voices came closer to their cell.

The older of their captors unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding his Uzi in front of him at the ready but pointed slightly away from them. To Joanna, it was a big change. We take you away from here now to clean up. We will make tape for America to say what we want for you. Come.

Jamie and Joanna exchanged shrugs as he helped her stand up with Marlena. He picked up the bunny when it fell and followed the mother and daughter out, carefully avoiding the automatic rifle that now tracked the small group. The younger man led them to a dirty beige van and ushered them in, slamming the side door with unnecessary force.

No talking, the older man ordered as he climbed into the driver's side.

The Americans obeyed, unwilling to antagonize the men who thus far had been reasonably humane. For nearly half an hour, they rode through rolling pasture land populated sparsely with flocks of sheep and goats; the very few signs along the road proved Joanna's supposition correct – they were indeed in Lebanon. The van finally stopped in a small village, in front of the largest building, apparently the home of the village elder.

Joanna was highly surprised a few minutes later to find that the house was equipped with a full American style bathroom – including a regular bathtub and shower with hot water that she was told she could use much of water to clean, no run out. And there were clean, Western clothes for them, as well.

Jamie laughed and volunteered to go first. I'll use less hot water, he added sagely. 

Joanna knew he was right; it took him only 10 minutes to come out looking like a normal American teenager, albeit a frightened one. On the other hand, with Marlena to bathe and dress, it took her almost 45 minutes to emerge from the bathroom. She french braided Marlena's hair and rope braided her own long, wet hair swiftly as she listened to the older man giving them instructions.

You tell them what is on card only, he said to Joanna. Boy can speak for half minute to parents. Hold little one up but she not say to say anything. No tricks.

Amazingly, he left them alone in a bedroom after that.

Miss Marley, what do I say to Mom and Lee and Dad and Carrie that will help us? Jamie asked in an urgent whisper.

Joanna was impressed all over again with the young man before her. Before she could reply, Marlena gave him an answer of her own. Love them, she declared. See sheep.

Jamie turned his head sharply toward the girl. Marlena, that's brilliant! he breathed. The all-county orchestra is playing Beethoven's _Pastorale_ Symphony at its concert next month. I've been driving everybody crazy practicing the cello part. His mind whirled – Joanna could see the wheels turning as he crafted his message. Lee and Philip teased me not too long ago about it sounding like gently rolling hills. But how do we get Lebanon into it?

Your mom was an English major, right?

Jamie nodded. 

It's not as true now as it used to be, but most Literature majors used to have to take a few courses in Biblical literature because – well, because. It's a long shot, but can you work the word cedar' into your message? Better yet, 

The wheels turned again. Uh, how about something like I really want to picnic down by the old cedars in the park'?

Joanna smiled. Perfect. Like I said, it's a long shot, but it's worth a try. Let's hear it.

Jamie returned her smile, calmed by her presence and liking her immensely for helping him stay focused through his unending terror. He repeated his message five times, each time more confidently.

Okay, now add some of the fear back into it.

He did; Joanna told him to do it for the camera just like that.

Jus' like dat, Marlena repeated, earning herself a hug from both the teen and the adult.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

  
  


**Chapter 8 * Tel Aviv, Israel * 3:25 p.m. (GMT+2)**

Good, good. One has to love satellite technology. Syrian TV accepted the feed with no trouble? Ali was in an excellent mood; his extraordinarily well-financed operation was going well despite the idiot Tariq Agazi and the unexpected discovery of the burned car in Virginia; neither thus far seemed to have led the Americans or the Mossad any closer to him or to the operation. He spoke fluent French to his Lebanese contact.

Just as you predicted, my friend. And the woman did just as she was told. The boy, well, he's expendable anyway, so who really cares what he says? It was the older man from the air strip and the house, the man who had run the video camera just moments ago to tape Joanna and Jamie, the same man who had taken possession of the catalyst and formula for the destruction of Israel from Frank Palmer's contact.

I just wish we knew exactly who this young man is. Wouldn't it be wonderful if his father were a high-ranking government official? Ali's glee came through clearly.

It would. But wouldn't that change the plans a bit?

No. They will die if the Gardener comes. All the better if he is the son of someone powerful – for then will the mighty be humbled.

  
  


**Atlanta, Georgia/CNN Headquarters * 8:45 a.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


We've got a hot lead on the Forest kidnapping! a producer screamed into the off-camera newsroom. Uplink from our Tel Aviv bureau from Syrian State Television.

Is it authenticated? the news director shouted back, knowing that he would be able to speak at normal volume with his next statement. Get me proof and then get me background and get us on air.

Thirteen minutes later, at 8:58 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, the three minute video of Joanna, Marlena, and Jamie was broadcast to the world.

  
  


**En Route via Military Helicopter to Tel Aviv, Israel * 4:06 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Dr. Forest, Lieutenant Colonel Marlowe, Miss Desmond? The Israeli co-pilot interrupted the rotor-beaten silence through their intercom headsets.

Go ahead, Lieutenant, Ian replied.

I just wanted to let you know, sirs and ma'am, that CNN just broadcast a tape of Ms. Marley and the boy. They seem to be okay, but Ms. Marley had to read a statement.

Can you patch us into a live feed? Andy asked, exhaling heavily.

I can try, sir. Just a moment.

  
  


**Over the Atlantic Ocean * 10:07 a.m. (GMT-4)**

  
  


Amanda! Wake up! Lee shook his wife forcefully. We've got live feed from CNN – the terrorists released a tape of Jamie! When her eyes opened, he pointed to the television at the front of the cabin. Tape of Jamie, he repeated.

Billy answered first. As soon as we see this, let's get people on it back in D.C.

Amanda whispered, reaching out to the screen, trying to connect with her son in whatever way she could.

  
  


**CNN International Broadcast * 9:08 a.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


Once again, the tape you are about to see was delivered via satellite transmission to our Tel Aviv Bureau from Syrian State Television. Syrian State Television has promised us the original tape, which was delivered to an unspecified bureau through methods unclear at this time. We will be cooperating with the authorities both in Israel and in the United States. The anchor droned, building tension in a helicopter over the Israeli desert, a 747 over the Atlantic Ocean, an unassuming house near Silver Spring, Maryland, and millions of other places in the world. The tape you are about to see is of Ms. Joanna Marley, the manager of a Defense Department research program, her three year old daughter, and we believe that the young man is James King of Arlington, Virginia, although we are still awaiting confirmation of his identity. He looked directly at the camera. We will have expert commentary coming up after the tape.

The next scene was clearly amateur video at its worst; the quality never really improved although it did stop shaking after several frames, as though the photographer put the camera on a tripod. Joanna sat in a chair, Marlena in her lap; the woman read from a card over her little girl's shoulder. Hammedatha the Agagite strikes revenge on the Gardener and on the Great Satan and on the Little Satan. Many people will die tonight. Only the Gardener can save his lover and her child and the boy. Go home to the Great Satan, Gardener. You cannot save the Little Satan. We will finish the Great Satan too unless you go home. We have many things in place. We will take them away if you go home. If you stay, tomorrow many will die in the Great Satan. And they will die tonight – your woman and the girl and the boy. Be gone four hours after sundown and take your team with you. The ropes of the hangman swing for Mordecai's children tonight. Her voice was flat, her eyes dull, almost drugged.

Jamie's voice, however, was full of emotion. I want to practice Beethoven again so you can all tease me about the _Pastorale's _cello part. Mom, please, I really want to have a picnic like you promised down by the old cedars. Dad, opening day for the Orioles, you promised. Lee, Carrie, Philip, Grandma – I love you all!

A hand-lettered sign appeared, bearing a hangman's noose and an Arabic inscription. A voice said in heavily accented English, Four hours from sundown. We kill them at 9:45.

  
  


**Over the Atlantic Ocean * 10:11 a.m. (GMT-4)**

Amanda stared wide-eyed at the TV screen, willing herself to disbelieve what she had just heard. They are going to kill my son. In six hours my son will be dead. This is not happening. This is not happening.

Lee roused her forcefully with a shake of her right arm, knowing at least a little bit how she felt from all the times she'd been held hostage, and understanding a little bit because Jamie was his son, now, too. 

Lee, they're gonna kill Jamie, she croaked hoarsely, a dry sob jerking its way out along with her words.

Not if I have anything to say about it. Did you listen to the message?

They're gonna kill him, she repeated, then realized who was in front of her. Her eyes cleared with purpose. The message. Jamie's message. Right.

Amanda, did you hear anything in the message that might help us? Billy asked gently from the seat on her other side.

I wasn't listening like that, she admitted with a groan.

It's okay, honey. We recorded it. You can watch it again as many times as you want to.

I don't want to watch it ever again. I need to watch it until I know if he's trying to tell us anything.

Billy stood up and went to the VCR beside the TV set, rewound the tape, pressed play, and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch again; it spoke volumes about the woman sitting across the way that she could muster the strength to watch it once more, never mind the dozen or more times he knew would come.

  
  


**En Route via Military Helicopter to Tel Aviv, Israel * 4:15 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


I need to see that, Ian said to Francine and Andy after they had listened to the audio portion of the CNN feed twice.

I want them back and I want the bastards who did this dead, Andy replied.

Francine said nothing, merely looked back and forth between the two men to whom Joanna and Marlena meant so much. For herself, she had to count Joanna as one of her best friends, even though their only contact since training, until this week, had been the cards the younger woman sent at irregular times – but somehow always when Francine most needed a psychological boost. Marlena had captured her heart totally when Dr. Smyth melted at the girl's ministrations. Jamie King, for all the time she'd spent with the Stetsons since the revelation of their marriage, was still a mystery, but simply because he was Amanda and Lee's son she cared deeply. Her concern must have shown on her face.

Francine, I promise, we'll get them back alive, Ian comforted her, patting her arm affectionately. We can't miss.

Why is that? Andy asked before she could.

Because we've got the best team possible – the three of us, Amanda, Lee, Mr. Melrose – and let's not forget our inside woman, Jo. And our supporting cast is phenomenal: the Mossad, the NSA, the CIA, and every man on the team.

If Ian was acting, it was a fine job; he was convincing enough that the pilot added his own promise. Don't worry, ma'am. You've got the entire Israeli military backing you up, too.

Somehow, the words did help her feel better, and by the time they touched down at the Tel Aviv airport a few minutes later, she could be all business again.

  
  


**Over the Atlantic Ocean * 10:48 a.m. (GMT-4)**

  
  


William Melrose pursed his lips as he listened to an excited voice on the other end of an air-to-ground call. While he and his command watch team had been busy overnight, so had many other dedicated teams of people up and down the New York-D.C. Corridor, with considerable success. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place along the edges; with luck, the interior would soon complete itself with little if any loss of life.

Lee and Amanda had watched the tape of the three hostages about 8 times since their first viewing, making notes each time. To Billy's practiced eyes, Amanda seemed to be on the verge of a revelation as she sat rereading her notes; Lee, as one would expect of the action-oriented agent, fidgeted beside his wife and looked put out with the whole notion of waiting for a breakthrough before plunging into a rescue mission.

Okay, great job, Sheridan. Any question as to the certainty of this information? Melrose asked of the man on the other end of the phone. Good. Keep unravelling from your end – maybe we'll get another lucky break. LAX is a big airport, but we can hope. And please pass on my thanks to the Virginia State Police – their work at the truck stop could be invaluable. He listened for a few more seconds, then ended the conversation with a friendly, See you soon.

Lee looked up from his seat quizzically, his hope for something to do evident in his handsome face. he asked impatiently.

Good news all around but nothing we can do just yet.

Lee responded, deflating visibly. What's the news?

Not wanting to distract Amanda, Billy motioned for Lee to join him in the next cabin at the command console, where he shared the news in a low voice. We've confirmed that Frank Palmer left JFK under an assumed name on a flight to LAX. There is no record of him leaving LAX under either his own name or that assumed name, so we're guessing that he left LAX, probably on an international flight, under another assumed name and possibly not on an American passport.

Well, that's certainly going to keep a few people busy in our LA Bureau. What else?

Billy smiled. The Virginia State Police have a solid lead on a man who had dinner with our mysterious information broker at a truck stop about 5 miles from the place her car went off the road. The description they got from several different people matches that of a man on Interpol's 10 Most Wanted List for terrorism.

Lee raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Really. No one is quite sure of his true identity, but he's known by the name Jikar Qitani.

And we have no idea where he went after the truck stop, I'm sure.

The smile broadened. Actually, a state trooper stopped a car matching the description of the car Qitani was seen getting into – about 20 miles outside of Herndon 4 hours after the confirmed truck stop sighting. The driver's license picture is a 95% positive match for Qitani. Billy reached over to the fax machine and pulled the still warm thermal sheet off, handed it to Lee.

Lee took the sheet carefully, stared at the composite sketch for several long seconds. Finally, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He got on an airplane at Dulles and left the country shortly after the stop, no doubt.

Using a passport that matched the driver's license.

Lee punched the air with his fist in victory. We know where he went!

Well, we lost him in Frankfurt – the passport was used to check into a hotel, but it seems that the room was never used.

So he left Frankfurt under another name. I presume Interpol is cross-checking?

You better believe they are. There's something else you ought to know about Jikar Qitani, Lee. Billy made sure Lee was looking at him before he went on. Qitani was one of Adi Birol's original mentors, at least as far as we can tell. We think that he may be affiliated with the remnants of Birol's group in Beirut, or perhaps with Birol's original backers.

Lee paled at the mention of Adi Birol; watching his best male agent, Billy could only imagine the hell the man was going through based on the changing expressions that swirled across the white face. Sit down, Scarecrow, he commanded gently, guiding the man to a plush seat along the aisle.

I've got it! Amanda crowed as she leapt through the cabin's curtains into the command center. I know where they are!

Lee stopped midway down into the seat and straightened. Where are they, honey?

Lebanon – in a relatively rural area. She smiled, the first bright look on her face since the afternoon before.

Lay it out step by step, Amanda, Billy directed.

She did, catching exactly what Jamie wanted to convey with his reference to Beethoven. This part took me longer, sir, because I think JoJo had to help Jamie with it. See, we don't have any cedars in our area – but the Cedars of Lebanon are famous in the Bible. I remember telling JoJo that I majored in English in college, so she must have figured that I had taken a Bible as Literature class or something.

Lee took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, not in the least bit worried about offending the boss. You are magnificent, my love, he whispered heavily, a tear forming in the corner of one eye.

Billy looked away to give the couple a moment of privacy before he cleared his throat, demanding their attention again. Excellent work, Amanda. The CBW team should be on the ground in Tel Aviv now – I'll relay this to them and see what we can get going with Syrian security.

Amanda looked at her watch and did some quick calculations. All joy washed off her face as she realized that time was slipping away. Tell them to hurry, sir. We've got less than five hours.

  
  


**CNN International Broadcast * 10:15 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  
  


The grave demeanor of the CNN anchor told the audience that this was no ordinary Breaking News alert. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have an update now on the terrorist kidnapping of three Americans from the Washington, D.C. area yesterday afternoon. Joanna Marley and her daughter Marlena were taken from their car in a suburban neighborhood of Arlington, Virginia, at approximately 3 p.m. yesterday. A young teenager tentatively identified as James King was also abducted at the time. We have now confirmed the identity of the teenager as James King, son of Joseph and Carrie King of Arlington and Amanda King-Stetson and Lee Stetson, also of Arlington. Mr. King is the Assistant Counsel General of the Emergency Aid Organization, an arm of the State Department responsible for the distribution of American materiel relief to other countries. Mr. and Mrs. Stetson are both employees of International Federal Film, a small documentary film company closely associated with the government.

We extend our hopes and prayers for the three hostages and for their families; stay tuned to CNN for updates as we have them.

  
  


**Somewhere in rural Lebanon * 5:23 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


We have changed our plans, my friend, Ali's voice said from the safety of his well-covered Tel Aviv business office.

the older man asked with surprise.

Yes. Have you been watching CNN?

No. The satellite dish lost power a little while ago. Sahar is working on it now.

Well, then you should know this: your third hostage, James King, is the son of the agents who put Adi Birol in prison in America.

Silence ensued; Ali could hear the other man's deep, even breathing as he processed this information. When he spoke next, it was with a slight tremor of tightly controlled fury. So, we will not kill them, but bait a trap with them?

Very good, my friend. We will catch the Gardener, and the Scarecrow, and Mrs. Scarecrow, too. This is a very, very good day.

Indeed. Inshallah...

Inshallah. I will call in an hour with more instructions. He hung up.

The man in Lebanon held the receiver thoughtfully for a long time before he, too, hung up the phone and went in to speak with his hostages.

Joanna knew as soon as he opened the door to the bedroom in which the three Americans had been locked that things had changed for the worse. She instinctively pulled both children closer to her, away from the hostile glare of their captor, and waited breathlessly for what he had to say. It did not take long.

You have been my guest for several hours. Allow me to introduce myself. The world knows of me as Jikar Qitani. My real name, however, might mean more to you – and if not to you, than certainly to the people who care about you, James King.

Jamie stiffened in Joanna's arms at the unexpected use of his full name. Suddenly, he was very glad to have a mother's embrace to protect him, even if the mother in question wasn't his own.

The man grinned terribly. I'm afraid, young Mr. King, that I have a score to settle with your mother and your stepfather. They put one of my sons in prison. You see, my name is Aran Birol.

The name meant nothing to Jamie, but Joanna recognized it. John had shot and killed one of the kidnappers in Toronto before another one killed him... For the first time in her life, Joanna was thankful for a deceptive practice of the agency for which she worked.

And as for the Gardener, well... the word hung in the air for three evilly gleeful chuckles, he owes me my other son's life.

  
  


**Tel Aviv, Israel * 5:40 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


A young mother hurriedly tried to fill the last of the balloons for the Purim celebration her four year old twins were anxiously awaiting. When her husband suggested getting the helium tank, she had been dubious, but it really had been much cheaper than buying the balloons already filled and was much less hassle than schlepping a bouquet of the things from the market to the house on foot. The nozzle seemed clogged, though, so she took it off to try to clear it.

At her fading cry of pain, the twin boys came running in to see what had happened. Mama was whimpering and she wouldn't look at them – but now it hurt, and it was hard to breathe... Their screaming lasted for less than a minute, then all was silent in the house.

In another Tel Aviv neighborhood, an eight year old accidentally popped two balloons while her father was in another room of the house; the sound of the balloons brought him into the family room to find his daughter in a full seizure. He picked up the phone to call for help; he barely finished telling the operator where his house was before he, too, suffered a seizure. 

The dispatcher called the medical rescue team, which arrived, kicked through the door, and became victims themselves. Only because one member of the team mentioned on the way out that it was unusual for two people in the same family to have seizures at the same time did someone at the aid station think about the terrorist activity warning issued before the weekend, but epilepsy did run in families,occasionally... When the first team did not report in after twenty minutes, a second team went. No one thought about the alert again until after the second team's failure to report in, which was unfortunate in the extreme. Had they done something the first time, perhaps thirty lives could have been saved that awful night in Israel.


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Thank you to all who have reviewed this story! I'm working on the end – your comments have spurred me to be extra attentive as I finish what you have said started so well.

  


**Chapter 9 * Outside Tel Aviv, Israel * 5:45 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


****Seven small airplanes took off from an airstrip on one of the few Kibbutzim that was not a Jewish community in the entire nation of Israel. Ali laughed to himself as he watched the cropdusters disappear into the twilight sky. Someone in the Mossad would lose a lot more than his job once the true owners of this prime piece of land became known.

The eighth plane, still on the ground behind him, was his; it would take him over the border to Lebanon, where he would deal with his hostages. In the mean time, the land-killing chemicals inadvertently released in Texas and so recently duplicated in the Virginia labs of the Environmental Defense Initiative would wreak their havoc on 14 vital farms. Too bad that Dr. Palmer hadn't been able to get more of the catalyst out of the lab, as it would have been more glorious to kill 50 farms, or 100, even. But 14 large kibbutzim would do serious damage to the food production of the country, so it would be enough for the moment.

And in the mean time, Ali mused, he would think of all the things he could do to help Jikar Qitani exact revenge on the three Americans who seemed to be his sole reason for living. It was a double-edged sword to have his Mossad informer away during this critical time; the man could not be implicated should anything go wrong, but neither could he provide vital information – such as the actual American response to the kidnapping and to the casually leaked word yesterday that chemical weapons might be used in Israel. He just had to wonder if their stab in the dark with the videotape were true, that B. Andrew Forest really would appear, a ghoul out to stop the righteous war Ali and his fellow soldiers waged against the state and people of Israel. And if the threat of harm to his lover would truly prevent the Gardener from doing his job.

  


**In the Skies Above Israel * 5:49 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Sir, I just watched seven planes take off from a civilian airstrip without clearance, the Radar Intercept Officer (RIO) of an Israeli F-14 told his pilot. Tel Aviv Control is trying to raise them but they're not responding.

Then let's take a look, Lieutenant. The pilot notified his wingman to stay behind, then rolled the stick to the right. The plane bent to his will, slipping down toward the ground gracefully in the purpling sky of a desert sunset.

The supersonic jet came up behind the smaller craft, just behind the center plane. Well, what have we here? Don't they look like cropdusters, Dan?

The RIO looked out to either side of the plane at the formation. Yes, they do, Captain. But why after dark?

That is a very good question – especially since it's illegal.

We don't seem to have fazed them, though.

Maybe they're hoping that playing innocent will keep us from getting curious.

They're wrong. Shall I call Smokestack in?

Yes, and Viper and Hangman, as well. I'm not liking this, not with the warning we got before we left.

You think they might be carrying nerve gas, sir? For the first time in the year that the two had been flying together, the pilot heard real fear in his young RIO's voice.

I pray God they aren't, but I'm not ruling it out, either.

  


**The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR * 6:57 p.m. (GMT+3)**

  


Well, of course the Americans have a team on the ground in Tel Aviv. They're trying to prevent a catastrophe, the head of the GRU said to the Secretary General's assistant as he pounded on the man's desk for emphasis. I told you three years ago when we found out just who some of our predecessors had made money from over the years that this would happen. He leaned down into the ancient, creased face.

_Ya neh panimayu_, the secretary replied timidly, backing away from the agitated general. I don't understand. How did we lose control of these weapons?

Sheer stupidity, replied the other man, spitting his opinion. And arrogance. But please, tell Comrade Gorbachev that this is not a time to huff and puff about military buildup. Even if the _Komitet Gosyudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti_ says otherwise. The full name of the Committee for State Security rattled out of the man's mouth like automatic gunfire.

Da, I will tell him to ignore the hawks of the KGB. A grim smile graced the grey old man's face. Are we going to help our Arab friends if this blows up?

The general shook his head. We have too much to worry about in Warsaw and Berlin right now. I doubt even our Cuban friends will want to be involved in this. They do not need money _that_ badly.

  


**In the Skies over Israel * 6:02 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


We have you in sight, Tapdancer, the soothing voice of Smokestack said into the ears of the pilot and RIO. You've got seven bogeys, eh?

Easy targets. I think we ought to force them down, Tapdancer replied.

We could just follow them until they have to land. I doubt they'd do anything nefarious with a flight of Tomcats lurking in their wakes.

Good point.

Smokestack took command as flight lead. Viper, Hangman, you copy Tapdancer's status?

The other pilots affirmed the decision; Smokestack's RIO asked for stand-by ground crews to respond once the final destination of the civilian planes became clear.

The waiting began...

  


**The Tel Aviv Holy Land Hotel * 6:04 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Waitstaff bustled about, putting the finishing touches on an elaborate Kosher buffet that included both a dairy and a meat section – a sure sign, sighed the catering manager, that times were changing in Israel. Once upon a time, dairy and meat couldn't be served at the same meal, let alone in the same room. Feeling a drop of water hit his sleeve, the man looked up at the ceiling, wondering if the heated air going through the conduits were causing condensation again. Supposedly, the engineering staff had solved that problem last week.

When, after a few minutes, only a little more dripping had been reported and that over the ice sculpture in the center of the room, the manager put it out of his mind. He had many other things to worry about that evening, each of them far more important than an occasional splatter of water onto a guest's clothing in the middle of a raucous Purim party.

  


**Tel Aviv, Israel * 6:05 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Ariel Steinmetz looked haggard. It had been a very long weekend, and there was no end in sight to the week just begun. He was in his least favorite city in the entire world – with the possible exception of Tehran – for what had to be the nastiest part of his job: dealing with the very real presence of violence aimed at destroying the only country he ever remembered calling home. He groaned and leaned forward into his hands as he listened to the American expert tell him far more than he had ever wanted to know about _Tabun_, _VX-2_, and _Botulinum A_. As he listened, he thought back to the vague whispers of the adults he had known as a young teenager trying to survive in a hellhole with the innocuously pleasant name of Birkenau: Zyklon B; showers that weren't showers, furnaces that did not keep anyone warm... Haman had come back in many guises in the history of his people; who would play the role of Esther this time?

Dr. Forest continued his lecture to the troops gathered in the gymnasium of the armory, oblivious to the ruminations of his host. To Andy, this was the worst kind of professional responsibility – preparing men – and women, he reminded himself, looking at the many bright young faces of the Sabras in the crowd – to die in defense of their country. He took his job very seriously; his team brought with them some 1,500 doses of his enhanced pre-exposure neutralizer, carefully but quickly produced in the 36 hours between his confirmation that it would (on mice, at least) be more effective than anything else and their swift departure in the middle of the next night. He still hoped fervently that none of those shots would be needed.

That hope died when a communications officer came flying into the room, not bothering to keep anything confidential as he announced that three medical teams had been reported missing after responding to two different emergency calls in separate areas of Tel Aviv. Initial indications were that the signs of illness reported by those making the calls were consistent with the possibility of nerve agent exposure, and the common factor was helium balloon equipment. The Americans had been right, apparently.

The room fell silent. This was real, and every heart in the space pumped just a little faster as the spectre of what had just been unleashed grew into unfettered terror.

  


**Over the Eastern Atlantic Ocean * 3:10 p.m. (GMT-1)**

  


Billy, can't we fly any faster? Lee Stetson groused to his boss as they stood beside the command and communications console of the 747. Does it have to be a 13-hour flight?

Under other circumstances, Billy might have laughed. Instead, he replied, Lee, you know that we only get so much leeway with these things. Getting the Concorde was more important than getting international permission to fly faster'.

Yeah, I know. I just feel so helpless.

Amanda looked up at the men from the status report she was reading. Just how do you think I feel? She set the papers down and stood up, joined them by encircling her husband's waist with one slim, elegant arm. Sir, I think there may be much more trouble now that Jamie has been linked to us. Even if this Hammedatha group doesn't have a history with us, that doesn't mean that they aren't in contact with someone who does – especially if they really do have the same backers as Adi Birol. Jamie could be worth a lot of money and political capital to any number of people in the Mid East.

Or anywhere else, for that matter, Billy added, dejected at the reality of that fact.

Yes, sir. Amanda focused on staying with the business at hand, trying with visible effort to be detached in her analysis. I don't think they're going to kill them now. It just wouldn't make sense.

There's that – and how did they know that Andy was on his way to Israel, anyway? Lee slammed his hand against the countertop beside him.

Billy snorted. You know our friends at the CIA – they leak like a sieve and half the time it's intentional. It could also be the Mossad; they know they've got a Soviet mole, so it's possible that he's also feeding the Arabs. You know the theory that treason once committed is twice as easy. Or it could be a luck guess, too. Don't forget that whomever actually engineered the kidnapping knew quite a bit about Andy and Joanna to be able to snatch her in broad daylight. They might have become aware of the EDIN team's commitment to overseas use during CBW events.

And there's not a thing we can do for seven more hours – assuming that Amanda's right that their captors won't kill them. Do we have any assets in Lebanon?

Amanda answered before Billy could. Not since the Marine Barracks bombing in any strength. That was a major failing of the Reagan years. At Lee's surprised look, she shrugged. Advanced Political Strategy and RealPolitk over at the CIA, she said, reminding him of her continuing education. It's been far too dangerous to have an open American presence, so most of what we have on the ground is third-party, Israeli primarily, with a smattering of French and Saudi assets in place, too.

Aren't you glad you picked her for that package? Billy asked, enjoying the pleased and proud look on Lee's face as Amanda proved her mettle yet again. He supposed that it was just a sign of their love, but he wondered if Stetson would ever stop being surprised at his wife's abilities.

If I hadn't, we wouldn't be missing a son, Lee answered quietly.

If you hadn't, you wouldn't have a son to be missing, Amanda reminded him, pulling him closer. And Jamie wouldn't trade for anything, I'm sure.

  


**Somewhere in rural Lebanon * 6:20 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Miss Marley, would you think it's strange to say that I'm really glad my parents are spies?

Joanna, on the floor with Marlena, looked up at Jamie with a crooked smile. Under the circumstances, no. But tell me why.

Jamie sat down beside the mother and daughter. Well, since my mom and step-dad are spies, I figure that they will have a better chance of finding us because they'll care more than just any old federal agents working on the case. I mean, Terry Anderson and his friends have been hostages for almost 4 years – you would think that America could find them and rescue them. We could be next door to them and no one would ever know – but Mom and Lee are going to find us and get us out of here.

She couldn't dash the hope burning in the young man's eyes; rather, she patted his shoulder and smiled. You may be right, Jamie. I just hope that what Tariq Agazi said about nerve gas was wrong, or many more than us will be in trouble tonight.

Twubble Marlena repeated, sinking further baby talk as each hour of their captivity progressed.

Marlena, can you say it again for me? Trouble tonight, Jamie corrected, knowing that Miss Marley didn't like the baby talk.

Trouble tonight, she said slowly. I's scared.

I'm scared, too, Jamie told her, stressing the proper contraction.

Obviously thinking it was still part of the game, Marlena repeated him. I'm scared.

Joanna looked at the two of them and laughed softly. Leave it to my daughter to master the conjugation of to be' while being held hostage in a foreign county. It was the only bright spot at the moment; she held on to it for dear life.

  


**Israeli National Broadcasting Service Headquarters, Jerusalem, Israel * 6:25 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


This is an emergency broadcast to all citizens of the State of Israel. The government has issued a class one security threat alert for the entire country. All residents who have rented or purchased helium tanks for the Purim festivities are advised to notify their nearest National Guard armory immediately. All balloons which have been inflated with these tanks should be removed to an uninhabited area of your home and no further contact should be made with these balloons. We repeat, this is an emergency broadcast...

  


**Tel Aviv, Israel * 6:30 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Francine and Ian stood at the head of two of the ten lines of Israeli soldiers waiting for their pre-exposure injections. Neither had ever thought they would learn how to give intramuscular injections, but Andy had taught them and seven other men on the American team how to do so with the help of the team medic – it would, he persuaded them, save lives. Arm after arm came by, offered reluctantly but proudly, until the 800 Israeli men and women had each received a full dose of Andy's new formula as well as a half dose of the next most effective treatment to augment the protection.

The American team followed, and then the injectors themselves received their shots. By that time, everyone else had donned their moonsuits, looking for all the world like the astronauts in _2001: A Space Odyssey_. Francine, who had never trained for Chemical and Biological Warfare, giggled nervously as Ian helped her into her orange outfit.

You're probably the only person in the world who looks good in this color, he whispered to her as he assisted her a bit more than was probably strictly necessary. And you do look good.

She flushed, partly from the comment and partly because his hand had found a resting place against her hip and was massaging it in a way that left her weak in the knees. You don't look half bad yourself, she answered huskily, leaning into his body just a little.

No chances, Ian warned with unmistakable love in his midnight dark eyes and gentle tone. You do exactly what Andy or any team member tells you. Those shots we gave everybody are protection, not prevention.

Warmed all over again by the power of her feelings for this man, Francine couldn't trust her voice. She simply nodded, and kissed him with all the passion she could muster in a life or death situation.

The kiss left them both breathless under the hoods of their moonsuits a moment later as they walked carefully to the command vehicle. Holding gloved hands, Francine and Ian sat in the back of the truck as it moved out into the now dark night; they would stay in the mobile command center with Andy in a central of the city until the one or more of the many teams had found proof that Israel really had suffered a chemical and/or biological attack. Then they would move out, and hope that they were not too late.

  


**Over the West Bank of Israel * 6:40 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


Smokestack, this is Hangman, the voice crackled on the radio. I have two bogeys going off toward the Med, looks like they might try to ditch. Should I follow?

Smokestack replied. Hangman, yours still in formation?

Affir – make that negative, I repeat, negative, Smokestack. One of mine is going east and sinking fast. I think they were loaded for bear with whatever those tanks have in them and are starting to get low on fuel.

Concur, Smokestack, Tapdancer interjected. I show four turning and trying to line up with a lit strip about 20 miles from here.

Hangman's RIO spoke to the group. Sir, I'm from this area. The airstrip they're aiming for must be Beer-Gazim. It's the only lit field in fifty miles of here.

Thanks, Junior. Holler when your bogeys make a definitive move. I'm calling in the land crawlers for the nasties here. Tapdancer, chase the lone gunman down.

The two remaining jets in the flight flew in silence for three or four minutes, still following the four planes seeking the Beer-Gazim airstrip.

Uh, Viper... I don't think I like what I just saw, Smokestack said, forgetting proper radio etiquette momentarily.

What's that, Smokestack?

Three of the four just sprayed that village we just passed. And I think... Yeah, the fourth dropped his load over the orange grove.

He must have missed, Viper's RIO miked in.

Or it's long-lasting, Viper said. Call it in?

On it right now. How many people just died?

Not even the army could answer his question.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 * Situation Room, the White House, Washington, D.C. * 12 Noon (GMT-5)**

  
  


I would just like to know how much CNN knows about IFF, a disgruntled National Security Advisor moaned to the Presidential Press Secretary as they sat together at the large conference table that dominated the room. It would _not_ be a good thing for them to know more than they have been mentioning on their minute-by-minute coverage of the kidnapping.

Pardon me, sir, but I think there are much more important things to worry about than the revelation of a super-secret intelligence organization – like half a million Israelis and a quarter million Palestinians in the Tel Aviv area, the Press Secretary rebutted.

Eh, this too shall pass', I'm sure. I doubt more than ten people will even get sick by the time this is all over, said the NSA. He turned around toward the communications desk just beyond the side door of the room. What's the latest from Dr. Forest and his bodyguards?

A young Navy lieutenant brought him the transcript of Forest's brief update, sent ten minutes before. The officer saluted crisply and was dismissed with a lazy wave of the NSA's hand as the senior administration official read through the details. Oh, no. This is bad.

The Press Secretary chortled sarcastically. Really? Do you think so? Whatever gave you the idea that nerve gas and fatally toxic bacteria might be bad in combination with a city the size of metropolitan Boston?

It's a really good thing - 

Gentlemen, what do you have for the President? The Chief of Staff announced his presence behind them with the pointed question.

All animosity aside, at least momentarily, the two men shared what they knew about the situation. Closing their report after three minutes, the NSA gave the other men the update from Israel. Dr. Forest isn't optimistic that they can stop all the casualties. There are nine confirmed deaths thus far and six more definite exposures found within the last twenty minutes. He also got word that there was an aerial attack on a village somewhere in the West Bank, but no one knows what it was or exactly who did it. Apparently the Israeli Air Force has forced the planes down and an Army Reserve unit is on its way to the village.

The Chief of Staff meditated on this for a moment. I'll get 6th Fleet to do a transponder trace and radar replay for the entire area, see if we can supplement that report. What about the kidnapping?

Well, linking the King boy to a high-profile agent like Lee Stetson is probably going to complicate matters. Stetson and his wife are on their way to Israel now; apparently Mrs. Stetson is also Mr. Stetson's partner.

Austin Smyth allowed a husband and wife team to stay together in the field? Either he's losing it or they are absolutely the best in the field, the President's most trusted friend and advisor mused.

The latter, I'm sure. And, by the way, Joanna Marley is his niece by marriage.

The Press Secretary squirmed. Just how many more people can possibly be related to – wait, don't tell me. Dr. Levi Marley is her father, isn't he? Which would make Dr. Sarah Marley her mother...

Take a breath, Scoop. The doctors Marley are safely locked away somewhere other than New Mexico and we've already worked out a scenario if demands are made for their knowledge in exchange for her life or that of either of the children. We just have to hope that no one figures out that Marlena Marley's father is the man who died when another group tried to take Dr. Forest two summers ago. He killed one of the terrorists before he went down and I'd just bet there's someone out there ready to take revenge.

  
  


**Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 7:10 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Ali, my friend! It is good to see you after so long, Jikar Qitani, aka Aran Birol, greeted his newest guest warmly. I trust your escape was easy?

Yes, yes, indeed, Jikar. The Israelis are so besotted with their stupid little parties that it was nothing to fly out without notice – and the other planes escaped, as well. There will be many unhappy farmers in Israel tomorrow.

The men laughed heartily as they made their way into Jikar's well-appointed study. Is your satellite dish working yet?

No. Shalor had to go into Beirut for a part in the rotator mechanism. He should be back within the hour.

Good. I want to make sure that we have another tape' ready to transmit at 9:45. Ali looked at his fellow freedom fighter. Have you given any thought to what you'll do with young Mr. King?

Quitani/Birol grinned malevolently. I'm going to make him watch what I do to the two misses Marley. He is quite attached to them. And when I have his mother and his step-father, I'm going to make them watch what I do to him.

And which of the parents will watch...?

I don't know yet. Whichever one shows weakness first, possibly. Or perhaps I'll alternate. The grin spread in a savage impression of a lifeless skull. Or I might keep them all alive to see each other suffer. That is what has happened to Adi, after all. He had not mentioned his other son to Ali. That particular revenge would be his alone for the Gardener.

  
  


**The CBW Task Force Command Vehicle, Tel Aviv, Israel * 7:35 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Andy, that was team 11. They've got one confirmed casualty and six exposures in a flat on Benjamin Street. Francine's information management skills had come in handy in the hour the CBW teams had been prowling the streets; she talked to the teams while Ian plotted their reports on a large map and Andy spoke with medical and emergency personnel who needed to know how to handle the people they were starting to see.

That makes the total dead 21 so far and rising, Ian added. Nothing since their initial report from the team at the Holy Land Hotel.

Andy Forest turned unsteadily in his moonsuit. I don't think they'll have an answer for us for a while. The sampling test I devised is only accurate 75% of the time, so no matter what it shows for toxins, we still have to run the lab tests before it's conclusive. Please tell me they got there before anybody ate anything, though.

It was odd to see Francine's head move behind the immobile face shield when she shook her head. Several early birds had nibbled and noshed' on the appetizers, apparently. The Prime Minister was running late and was diverted from the hotel as soon as Steinmetz met the on-site team.

That's a relief.

The next half hour brought reports from the remaining eight teams; 37 people – just about evenly divided among men, women, and children – were dead. The number injured due to exposure to _Tabun_ was over 100; teams at two large sites reported _VX-2_ exposure symptoms in over 250 people at those sites alone. The only question remained the party at the hotel, where the toxin tests were inconclusive and about 3 dozen people admitted to sampling the food. When Andy reminded the team that aerosol delivery could mean people were exposed without eating, the number of possible exposures jumped to 112, including all the guests and the catering staff.

Ian sighed behind his hood. And now, once again, we wait.

An hour and 45 minutes, Andy said, looking at the digital display above his head.

Francine and Ian knew exactly what he meant.

  
  


**Over the Atlantic Coast of Africa * 6:05 p.m. (GMT)**

  
  


Billy had made both Amanda and Lee take sedatives to help them rest for the duration of their flight. In five hours, they had to be ready to move at the peak of their game, both as a team and individually, he reasoned. Finally he pulled rank and made it an order; since the discussion an hour ago, the couple had drifted off to a somewhat peaceful semi-sleep that might not be ideal but was better than frantic spurts of thumb-twiddling between crazed data analysis sessions. Unfortunately for the senior agent, their repose left him to stay awake, although the Air Force Staff Sergent who served as their cabin steward had assured him that no one would know if Mr. Melrose took 10 or 15 winks.

Resisting the urge to take the man up on his offer of a blind eye, Billy sat rereading the pages of faxes and briefs that painted a dismal picture of events in Israel, hoping to find something that might clue them in to the location of Joanna Marley and the kids. After the third time through the immense stack, he was disgusted, frustrated, and dejected. In an hour and forty minutes, either three innocent people would die at the hands of kidnapping terrorists, or some evil reprieve would be issued to further torture the hostages and their friends and families. Since he was more family than friend to all three, it hurt that he, Section Chief of the Agency and instrument of the United States government, could do nothing more than wait with the rest of the world. He glowered more, muttering blue curses under his breath as he began the process all over again.

Mr. Melrose, sir? the Staff Sergent interrupted.

Sir, there's a call for you over the radio encryption line from Sixth Fleet Command. They say it's urgent at the direction of the White House.

Can you patch it down here?

Yes, sir. Just a moment.

Sixth Fleet Command? Billy asked himself. This ought to be interesting. He got up and stretched, moved to the phone at the communication console just as it buzzed. William Melrose, he said into the receiver.

Mr. Melrose, this is Captain Marcus Cole of the Sixth Fleet Eastern Air Traffic Control and Monitoring Center in Riyadh, Saudia Arabia. I was told to call you with information regarding air activity in Israel.

Confused, Billy replied, 

I don't know, sir, the captain responded honestly. And I was told not to ask, just to pass this information along to you.

Okay. What is it?

Mr. Melrose, just before 6 p.m. local time, about two hours ago, we tracked a flight of seven small planes from an area outside Tel Aviv as they moved south into the West Bank. At the same time, a single aircraft left the same general area heading north toward the border with Lebanon.

Billy processed this information carefully, thankful that Captain Cole was silent on the other end of the connection. The flight of seven had to be the one the Israeli Air Force chased. The single plane... Did that single aircraft enter Lebanese airspace?

Yes, sir, and we tracked it to a rural area about 30 miles southeast of Beirut before we lost his radar signature. None of these planes displayed IFF transponder signals, by the way.

IFF? It took the intelligence agent a few second to remember that in this context it meant something to the effect of International Friendship Frequency or Identify Friend or Foe, not International Federal Film. I guess that means they didn't want to be noticed, right?

Yes, sir. Although the flight of seven attracted enough attention to call out the army, from what I understand.

I heard something similar. Okay, thank you very much, Captain Cole. I have no idea what to do with this information, but it's good to have.

You're welcome, sir. Good luck with whatever it is you're trying to do. The connection ended abruptly.

Billy returned to his seat across from his sleeping friends. As he sat down, Amanda stirred and mumbled something about masterminds escaping and villages in Lebanon. It took him ten minutes to understand that Amanda might have put his conversation with Cole together with her nightmares about Jamie and come up with a new lead, but less than five to get Ariel Steinmetz on the line from Tel Aviv.

  
  


**Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * 8:30 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Ariel Steinmetz ended his brief conversation with Billy Melrose with even more questions than he had before. These questions, however, were ones to which the answers could be found with a little bit of good detective work, and, in fact, ones that might already be partially answered.

For instance, how many kibbutzim in the area around Tel Aviv had airstrips? Who owned the ones that did if they were privately held? Any connections to the company or companies that provided the helium tanks? What did those seven planes drop over the village in the West Bank? Who was in the single plane?

With three phone calls, Steinmetz had a dozen people working on the answers to those questions and those to any that might arise as the answers came. It was the best he could do; in his heart of hearts, he knew that Haman had won this round and would probably win the next one in an hour and fifteen minutes.

  
  


**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 9:10 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Dr. Forest! We found four air tanks in the air conditioning ducts over the function room – it looks like they were set on a timer to open, but there's no telling how long ago. This news came as Andy, Ian, and Francine arrived at the main entrance, brought by a member of the American task force that had been working at the hotel since a little before 7.

Get them down. I want those tanks dissected ASAP, Andy snapped, in command as though he rather than Ian had attended Marine Corps Officer Candidate School.

We're already working on it. It's tough, though. The maintenance crew is gone and we're having to jury rig equipment to get into the ducts to get them out.

Whatever it takes. This whole area is secure?

Yes, Dr. Forest. HAZMAT exposure suits only.

Good. Get me a television with CNN access and an area to set up the command center.

The team member scurried off. Ian clapped Andy on the back through their heavy-duty protective clothing. You'd have made a good Marine, Doc.

Andy turned to the Marine with an unexpected smile behind his clear faceplate. Thanks, Colonel. That means a lot, coming from you. He followed his man inside the hotel.

Somebody please wake me up from this nightmare, Francine murmured to Ian as she watched the activity around her. I want a hot shower, clean clothes, and everything the way it was on Sunday afternoon at 2:30.

Ian raised an eyebrow at her, an expression that looked unbelievably odd inside the helmet. Why 2:30 Sunday in particular?

Francine smiled and his heart skipped a beat. Because we were kissing.

He flushed under the hood and tucked her hand under his arm. Shall we go do our part to make this nightmare disappear?

The task force members had a moment of levity when the couple entered the main function room, arm-in-arm as though on a mid-evening stroll. Soon, however, it was all business again, performed to the intermittent hum of CNN anchors giving the latest updates on the terrorist action in Israel, the kidnapping of Joanna and Marlena Marley and Jamie King, and the box office statistics for the newly announced Academy of Motion Pictures Award nominees.

Andy paid scant attention to the television until the anchor announced that it was 9:30 in Jerusalem. He stopped his careful arranging of lab equipment and looked up at the set. Francine saw him and moved behind him just as he collapsed; she caught him and eased him into a chair Ian dragged under him.

she shouted.

I'm okay, Francine. Andy shook his head under the suit. I just heard what time it is.

Francine and Ian exchanged worried looks over the chemist's head, but before either could say anything to him, he continued. Don't bother placating me with false hope. Either they carry through with their threat or they don't, and we can't do a damn thing about it. He made no move to get up, so Ian brought two more chairs over and he and Francine sat down to watch with the doctor.

  
  


**Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 9:35 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Good work, Shalor, Ali dismissed the servant with a triumphantly raised fist. He turned to Qitani/Birol. CNN will get the footage in about 20 minutes. That was positively masterful staging, Jikar.

The older man nodded in acceptance. Thank you. It's my specialty, you see. I stage things all over the world.

Yes, the accident in Virginia was well done. Thus far, we've heard nothing about further investigation into the matter. And the body in Frankfurt is still well buried, according to my source in the police office there.

Dr. Palmer was very easy to deal with. Greed makes people stupid.

Ali nodded. Indeed. So, I think, does love. How soon do you think they will be here?

It will take them half a day or more to arrive in the Mid-East and likely several hours after that to arrange a meeting place. I'd say that we have another 24 hours, perhaps 36, before Scarecrow and his wife arrive. And I think that the Americans will refuse to let the Gardener come before them.

Ali mused for a long interval. I think you are right, my friend. The Americans will think twice about messing with us after they see the tape. In about... he checked his Rolex, ...thirteen minutes.

  
  


**CNN Headquarters, Atlanta, Georgia * 3:04 p.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


It was actually 21 minutes before the tape of the satellite uplink from Syrian State Television was ready for broadcast. Heeding the warning at the beginning of the tape, CNN broadcast the entire six minute submission, prefacing it with a warning: What you are about to see will be disturbing to most viewers. Viewers with small children are advised to remove them from the room before watching the tape.

  
  


**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:05 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Andy almost broke his own rules, but stopped himself from taking off his gloves when Francine placed a supportive arm across the back of his chair and Ian stood up behind him, placing a hand on either shoulder. He watched in horrid fascination as the tape played across the miles, showing clearly that the captors had been true to their words. The only sounds on the tape were gunshots – three in rapid succession, two more a moment later, accompanied by the terrified wails of Marlena, and finally a single shot that silenced the screams.

Tears streamed down his face as 90 seconds of silent, close-up footage played; he couldn't even wipe them away angrily as he wanted to, his rubber-encased hands scrabbling at the hard plastic of his face shield ineffectively.

  
  


**The Agency Safe House/Outside Silver Spring, Maryland * 3:05 p.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


Philip King, sit down! Joe King shouted at his older son from the leather couch in the den of the safe house. Pacing won't do you any good.

Dad, I can't sit still, Philip turned to his father, speaking softly as his mother often did when someone shouted at her. It hurts too much.

Joe blinked at his son, brought back to the heart of the matter by the simple confession of pain. I'm sorry, Philip, he replied gently. I know this is very hard for you, just like it is for me.

CNN doesn't make it any easier, Dotty added from her high-backed chair across the room.

Carrie took Joe's hand as they sat together; the family watched the tape in stark silence and prayed for the three people in it, but mostly for the son, grandson, and brother whose grisly death was now fodder for the world's media.

  
  


**Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:06 p.m. (GMT+1)**

  
  


Amanda's internal alarm had awakened her five minutes before the scheduled execution. Lee woke up just a moment or two later, missing the comfort of his wife's slender form in his arms. Billy reluctantly acknowledged the fact that they needed to know whatever there was to know as soon as possible. CNN became their focus.

They almost missed it, crying into each other's shoulders. Billy's startled laugh turned their attention back to the screen in time to see the three bodies responding to the commands of their captors.

  
  


**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:07 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


I don't understand, Andy said, reaching out to the television as first Joanna, then Jamie, and finally Marlena arose, seemingly unhurt but blood-spattered, from the dirt floor of the execution chamber.

  
  


**The Agency Safe House/Outside Silver Spring, Maryland * 3:07 p.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


Did you see that? Dotty gasped, pointing at the television screen. He's alive! Jamie is alive!

  
  


**Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:08 p.m. (GMT+1)**

  
  


The same heavily accented voice that announced the time of death in the previous tape announced the stay of execution this time. We know who and what you are, Mr. and Mrs. Stetson. If you want your son and the Marleys back safely, you will come and take their places, along with Dr. Andrew Forest, the man called the Gardener. This is not a bluff. This reprieve has only been granted because we found out the true value of our captives, and it is a limited-time offer. You have 24 hours. Otherwise, this will be for real. The execution scene was replayed.

They know, Billy, Lee said, his voice shaking. They know.

  
  


**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:10 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Ian and Andy both cried unashamedly. Francine stood between the men, an arm awkwardly draped around Andy's shoulder while Ian's helmeted head rested on her other shoulder. She had vowed not to cry because she knew that her eyes would itch afterward; the protective gear made that thought doubly uncomfortable as tears formed in the corners of her eyes despite her resolution to the contrary. There was still hope.

  
  


**Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:12 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Haman might have killed a few, but it seemed that King Ahasuerus had at least allowed Esther to step a little farther into his chamber, Steinmetz thought with minimal relief as the CNN anchor began to recount the tape for the worldwide audience. He shut the TV off with the remote and turned his attention back to a report that one of his investigators had made a few moments before the broadcast began.

He studied it for nearly five minutes, his tired mind not processing the information as efficiently as it had earlier in the evening. Then he read something that made his hair stand on end. he muttered. How did we all miss that? He picked up the phone.

  
  


**Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:21 p.m. (GMT+1)**

  
  


So you think there is a direct link between the owners of the two balloon companies and the owner of the farm – sorry, kibbutz – where those planes were. Where is the parent company listed? Billy asked as Amanda, all business now, took shorthand notes of the conversation. Lee sat at the console beside his wife, drumming his fingers on the countertop furiously.

West Germany. Frankfurt. Ariel Steinmetz's voice sounded hollow over the speakerphone.

Hold on a minute. Lee, pull that last report from D.C. and see if you can find what they said about Frankfurt. Okay, Ari, go ahead.

Well, here's the kicker. The owners of the Israeli companies and the kibbutz are Palestinians – which means there's a better than 80% chance they are Muslims. One would think that in a country where 98% of the population sees pork as unclean, hog breeders would stand out.

They do what? Amanda asked, astonishment clear in her tone.

They raise pigs at the kibbutz. The pigs are sold to the parent company in Germany, which has a sausage making company and also makes some kind of synthetic sausage casing through another subsidiary, and that subsidiary also makes latex and mylar balloons...

Which are then used by the balloon companies in Israel.

Right – except that the pig farm, the rubber manufacturing plant, and the sausage shop have all been held by the same company since 1948. The balloon companies are brand new since November.

Maybe this company is involved directly? Billy posed.

All of that would be circumstantial. Here's the nail in the coffin: the same company owns a 70% share of the magazine that published the article that made helium balloons all the rage in Israel for Purim this year.

Amanda diagrammed the relationships out for Billy as he silently thought through the information. Just as she finished her picture, Lee spoke up.

Ari, you said the parent company is registered in Frankfurt, right? Well, guess where the trail for Dr. Frank Palmer goes cold, after a hop from L.A. to Singapore?

three other voices said together.

But why pigs? asked Amand, confused. There's got to be a reason.

No one had an answer for her.

**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:45 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Francine, you read Arabic, right? Andy asked, motioning with a gloved hand toward one of the four air tanks now resting on the makeshift lab table in front of him. Can you tell me what the labels say?

the woman answered, glad to have something to do besides washing the walls with the caustic bleach solution protocol demanded. She hefted one of the tanks upright and bent down to study the classic Arabic script gracing the label.

After a minute, she poked Ian in the ribs and asked him for the English translation of the Hebrew label, written out for them moments ago by one of the Mossad men. She thought for several seconds after she read the short paragraph, then stood up straight and got the attention of Andy and Ian.

The Arabic doesn't say the same thing the Hebrew does, at least not entirely. It's the same basic warning information about helium, but there's an extra line in the Arabic that I almost ignored as decorative until I realized that it's written in a much older style of script.

Francine, what does it say? Ian asked impatiently, knowing that this would be important.

It translates as Kill Jewish swine before they pollute' and it comes from several Nazi propaganda posters used in Africa during World War II.

Andy blinked hard. How did you know about it?

The tired smile Francine gave him barely touched her lips, let alone her eyes. I spent four months in Tehran in 1979. Some of the Ayatollah's supporters were a little more rabid in their desire to destroy Israel than others. She thought about that briefly. There was one group in particular, led by an Iraqi, oddly enough. Anyway, the man who funded most of these groups had a taste for young, blonde Americans... Her voice faded. Some things were best left unremembered.

Ian looked at Andy, who leaned toward him and whispered something. Ian nodded, then turned his attention back to the beautiful woman at his side. Francine, honey, Ian started, you and I need to go talk, and then we need to talk with Mr. Melrose. Their plane is due to land in about half an hour. Let's take a drive.

Francine started to protest, but Andy waved her away with a thrown kiss as Ian took her arm, insistently leading her out through the lobby to the sedan that Ariel Steinmetz had left for them. The driver wore no protective clothing; with a happy sigh, Ian helped Francine take her orange suit off, then allowed her to help him do the same. She saw the expression in his eyes when he allowed a fantasy to cross his mind, and they kissed briefly after she whispered, Me, too, into his ear.

He told the driver to head for the airport, then settled Francine in his arms in the back seat and listened to her story about Tehran.

That's about all, she said after almost ten minutes. I went over there covered as a secretary with the Embassy, went with the CIA chief of station to a meet, got picked by this German-Iranian businessman to be his newest fling, and attended about a dozen meetings with these fanatical groups whose sole purpose was to make the Ayatollah look mild in comparison. In reality, of course, they spoke his rhetoric for him until they took the hostages. I left three days before that happened.

Ian looked at her with love and sympathy. That had been a traumatic experience, one he didn't think he would have had the courage to survive. Unfortunately, there was more to be brought out. Do you remember any names? he asked gently, shifting slightly to look out the rear window unobtrusively. Andy Forest had indeed followed them as he promised. A second sedan rode 50 feet behind, an obviously armed guard in the front seat beside the driver.

Yeah. The business man went by the Arabic name Samir. His first name was Gerhardt, I know that for sure, but I doubt that the surname he gave is true – Hochstein. His father was in the SS, he was head of security for the German Embassy in Tehran during the war. I doubt that he's using his father's name, given the circumstances. The Iraqi I knew only as Ali. She was silent for a long time. You know, I just now thought about this after almost ten years... don't you think it's strange that a German business man would raise _pigs_ in Iran, first and foremost, and then import the finished _pork _products back into Iran?

Ian stifled a laugh at the idea. Unless the sausages were both a code and a cover...?

Maybe. A warning for the state of Israel and a way to smuggle weapons in and out...


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**Chapter 11 * Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 11:30 (GMT+2)**

Miss Marley, do I have to go to sleep? Jamie moaned from his mat on the dirt floor in the room that had been the set for their mock execution barely two hours before. I feel like I need to pace or run or jump or something.

I know you do, hon, but that's your mind talking. Your body needs to rest. Have you ever had to shut your mind down? Make it stop working for a while, or distract yourself so you could concentrate on something else? Joanna sat on her own mat a few feet away, holding Marlena in her lap.

Marlena waved the fingers of her hand at Jamie without removing her thumb from her mouth; one thumb or the other had been there since Aran Birol had ordered them to rise from the dead for the benefit of the international television audience. Then she snuggled into her mother's shoulder a little more, seeking elusive comfort and respite from the terror of the last day.

Jamie looked at Joanna quizzically. I'm not quite sure what you mean.

Well, some people call it meditation, other people say it's discipline, and some just call it focus. Pick one idea or phrase or even a single word and say it out loud over and over and over. Eventually, you'll either have a revelation or fall asleep. She laughed without humor. I usually fall asleep.

What do you use?

Joanna looked at Jamie in the dim light. Well, for a very long time, I used Marlena's father's name, John Mark. Now I use something else.

Jamie smiled knowingly. Dr. Forest's name?

In a way, she acknowledged, glad the teen probably couldn't see her blushing in the semi-darkness. I have another one that I use when I want to pray, but even that puts me to sleep after a while. She shifted her daughter in her lap. Marlena, can we lie down now, please? Mommy needs to stretch out.

Marlena shook her head emphatically.

I need to sleep, my love, Joanna persisted. I'll spoon with you.

Reluctantly, Marlena relented, uncrossing her legs so she could be moved but doing nothing to help her mother get more comfortable. It took three or four minutes, but finally, Joanna was stretched out on her mat, holding Marlena close as the little girl sucked her thumb ferociously.

She looks like she's almost asleep already, Jamie said a moment later, watching the mother and daughter. I'm tempted to suck _my _thumb.

There was a little more humor in Joanna's laugh this time. With your braces, Jamie, you'd probably bite it off. How, pray tell, would I explain **that** to your mother?

  
  


**Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * January 25, 1989 * 12:36 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Francine wrote on the big white board in the operations office while Ariel Steinmetz, the head of the Tel Aviv division, and two other Mossad operatives worked through the puzzle with Billy, Amanda, Lee, Andy, and Ian. They had been at it for half an hour and the picture Francine had drawn on the board was much more clear than the one any smaller group of them had been able to produce. There were still a lot of question marks, but there were as many good guesses to go with the unknowns. Francine's connection of the German-Iranian to the big picture, while tenuous, seemed to be the most important piece yet for solving the whole awful mystery. It did not, however, get them any closer to the now more immediate problem of rescuing Joanna, Marlena, and Jamie before the deadline set by the kidnappers.

Okay, we're going in circles now, Francine said as she stepped away from the board to look at it. This is what we've got. We think that the German-Iranian, Gerhardt whomever, is the true owner of the parent company of the sausage company and the rubber company in Frankfurt, and the kibbutz and the party/balloon supply companies here in Israel. Gerhardt was at one time linked to Ali El-Bas Fatwah, an Iraqi who seemed to like the politics and religion of the Ayatollah Khomeni more than those of Saddam Hussein and who is well-known to the Mossad for his operations against Israeli nationals around the world. She paused to see if anyone wanted add anything; seeing only nods of encouragement, she continued.

Ali was a known financier of Adi Birol's efforts in Lebanon and in the United States, and is believed to have continued to support the remnants of Birol's group after Lee and Amanda arrested him. Birol was known to have had a stash of chemical and biological weapons but those were not found at any of his hideouts after his arrest. 

Enter Jikar Qitani, who also has ties to Birol's gang and who shows up in Virginia as the representative of the buyers of this doomsday concoction that causes polysulfuic ionization, then leaves the United States and disappears from Frankfurt. That same doomsday concoction gets dumped over a Palestinian village on the West Bank, sprayed from four of the eight planes that are registered to the airfield at the kibbutz owned by the company we think Gerhardt owns. Francine shook her head and went back to the white board, retraced the big red question mark in the center. But who has Joanna and Jamie and Marlena, and how do they fit into this picture?

Amanda spoke softly, almost as though she were thinking out loud rather than making a statement. Qitani and Ali are out for revenge.

Ian cleared his throat and pressed her. What do you mean?

she started, looking to Lee for assurance that it was okay to spout her theory in this place, Originally, we figured that whoever they' are took Joanna and Marlena to get to Andy to keep him from interfering with the operation here in Israel. Jamie was just an unexpected and probably unwanted extra guest. But then, once CNN revealed more information about Jamie, Jamie became just as important, if not more important, because now they have leverage over people who have wronged them – Lee and me. So that's why the fake execution and the demand for us as well as Andy.

That makes a great deal of sense, Mrs. Stetson, Steinmetz said after he thought through her analysis. Dr. Forest, someone tried to kill you a couple of years ago. Any idea who?

Andy shrugged. My best guess has always been a Lebanese group. My security agency thinks that perhaps the Iraqis put them up to it, and that it was a kidnapping attempt rather than an assassination. He looked down at the table, seemed to stare through it for a minute. Ian, can you find out the names of the terrorists involved during that event? The Mounties had identified most of them even after they escaped. Who knows, maybe one of them is part of this, trying to get revenge on me personally.

Ian nodded and got up from the table to make a phone call, patting Amanda's shoulder in appreciation as he brushed past her.

I think we'll find all of this out once we have them in custody. It's getting that done that we should be concentrating on. Lee never had liked to sit still.

Scarecrow, we'll get there, Billy soothed, understanding his agent's need for action. Ari, do you have any more information on that eighth plane?

Oh, my friend, you're going to like what I have to say. Steinmetz smiled, the crinkles on his face making him a wizened gnome. After your Sixth Fleet so kindly pointed us in the right direction, we were able to tap into our network of agents in place. We can set you down right on top of that eighth plane if you'd like us to. We've had the farm under surveillance since just after 10:30, and our operatives report that the owner bears a striking resemblance to Jikar Qitani.

Billy followed up. Any confirmation that the hostages are there?

Not directly, but we're working on a lead. There's a satellite dish on this particular farm –

Lee jumped in, That might have been the source for the tapes' rather than actual hand-delivered tapes.

It would certainly explain the close timing of the second broadcast, one of the Israelis added.

So what are we waiting for? Let's get a special ops team together and go get them, Lee demanded.

Ian came back in, pale and worried. Francine went to him, eased him into a chair with great concern as everyone else kept silent, waiting for his news.

I talked with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Special Intelligence Command in Toronto. The four surviving terrorists have all since been arrested by other governments for terrorist activities – they seem to have been pulled together specially for the job against Andy. They all said that the leader was the man who was killed. Caliph Ben-Aran, who is technically Caliph Ben-Aran Birol.

Amanda and Lee asked at the same time.

Ian confirmed. The RCMP only received that information last year – it was part of some kind of information exchange from the Special Protective Services Agency to the RCMP. It seems the SPSA buried that fact pretty deep – along with a lot of other information about the attempted kidnapping.

Andy Forest wiped his forehead. So this could have been revenge against me, too.

Francine was the only one who could find words. Oh, happy day, she said without any joy at all.

  
  


**The White House Situation Room, Washington, D.C. * January 24, 1989 * 6:00 p.m. (GMT-5)**

  
  


Dr. Smyth sat with the National Security Advisor listening to the exhausted team from Tel Aviv as they took turns talking into a speaker phone. Smyth's ever-present cigarette holder bobbed up and down in an abstract rhythm while he took notes, his grim expression betraying to the NSA just how deeply the ordinarily cold man felt about the whole situation. To punctuate the power of those emotions, when Ian revealed the identity of the terrorist casualty as Caliph Ben-Aran Birol, Austin Smyth clamped his teeth together so hard that the cigarette holder broke with an audible . Unsure what had happened, the man's lips opened just long enough for the broken piece to slip out, and oblivious to the ridiculous looking stub now twitching up and down in front of his teeth like a snake's tongue, Smyth kept taking notes of the call.

The NSA had to excuse himself from the room to keep from laughing; when he came back, Smyth was just about to start firing questions back at the team. The look on the haughty Intelligence Chief's face sent the NSA back to the hallway; Smyth had finally realized his cigarette holder was broken and he stared at if for some seconds as though it had personally committed high treason. Then he focused.

Colonel Marlowe, he began frigidly, You are telling me that the man my nephew killed was Adi Birol's brother.

Sir, the man killed by _Dr. Forest's bodyguard_ before the guard himself was shot was indeed Adi Birol's brother.

If revenge truly is their motive, and I cannot argue with that logic based on the facts at hand, what happens if they find out that his widow is the woman they have in custody, and his daughter is the little girl?

From the speakerphone came a wrenching moan and a rapid jumble of several voices talking at once, then a door slamming and a female voice saying, I'll go talk to him.

What was that? Smyth demanded from Washington.

That, sir, Ian coldly replied, was a breach of national security and personal integrity of the most offensive kind. Dr. Forest was never told about the relationship between John Randolph and Joanna because he has held himself responsible for the entire event. That was an order approved by the White House, one that only Joanna herself had permission to break when and if she felt the time appropriate. The wintry pause lengthened. Thank you, Uncle Smyth, you have now jeopardized the lives of everyone in this room unless Amanda Stetson can talk some sense into Andy Forest and very, very quickly.

How so? He's just a researcher – he wouldn't have the wherewithal to do anything on his - 

The door in Tel Aviv crashed open. Sir! Andy just decked a soldier and drove off in one of the sedans!

The National Security Advisor had only met Amanda once, but he recognized her voice. Well, Austin, it seems that you have underestimated yet another man's abilities in the face of danger to those he loves and cares about.

  
  


**The Desert North of Tel Aviv, Israel * January 25, 1989 * 2:10 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Birchwood Andrew Forest, you have done some damned stupid things in your life, but this one has to be the stupidest damned foolish thing you've ever done, the American scientist chided himself as he stood beside the car on the side of the road. Stealing a car with only a quarter tank of gas.

He certainly wasn't going to admit that stealing the car was foolish, or worse yet that his entire hair-brained scheme was foolhardy and arrogant. The ocean of emotions that washed over him in the brief time that it took Dr. Smyth's words to imprint on his memory left him drowning; his short conversation with Amanda had only made it worse.

Andy, look, there is nothing you can do by yourself to help Joanna and Marlena. You'll probably make it worse – and my son is out there, too, so I don't like that idea very much at all. Amanda had spoken gently, as she always did, trying to get him to set aside at least the hurt of secrets kept long enough to see reason. Let us work out a plan – we're going to need your help, Andy. What if they have nerve gas or – 

That's why I have to go! he had shouted at her, pushing her way with more force than he intended. They will kill them, Amanda! They may already know! And with that, he had run down the front steps, taken a swing at the driver of the car (it was, he knew, only luck that the punch connected, let alone knocked the man out), and stolen the vehicle.

The breakneck drive out of the city left him exhilarated and feeling as though he really could rescue the hostages single-handedly. Until, of course, the telltale spluttering of the engine choking on the last of its fuel forced him to the side of the road, where he sat calling himself names. Of course, one would think that a car belonging to the Israeli Army would come stocked with an extra supply of gas for occurrences just like this – but not this particular car. Water, C-rations, a full repair kit, spare anti-freeze, flares, and blankets, yes. Extra gas, no.

Okay, God, he said to the bright starlit sky. I think I get the point. I really can't do this by myself. Can you make sure I get to be a part of it? Then he took a couple of blankets, a bottle of water, and a Snickers bar from the trunk and got back inside, resigning himself to a long night in the cold desert.

  
  


**The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 3:20 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


I'm so tired I think I'm already asleep, Francine mumbled to Ian, Amanda, Lee, and Billy as they rode in the elevator to the floor reserved for the American relief team.

I'm so tired I don't have a snappy comeback, Lee replied.

You win, Amanda and Billy said together.

Hey, what about mine? Ian complained. I'm so tired I don't care who's in the bed next to me.

You win, Lee's and Francine's voices joined the other two.

I don't really care who wins this, as long as we're all rested and ready to move out at 10 this morning, Billy reminded. That includes breakfast, people, so you aren't going to sleep until 9:55.

Ian groused. 

The elevator opened and five very tired people lumbered off. Billy, of course, had his own room; he told his team that he truly didn't care how many of the other three rooms reserved for them were used and trundled sleepily down the corridor, yawning loudly. Amanda thanked Francine with a hug and kissed Ian's grizzled cheek before she led Lee off to their room, leaving the other couple standing alone in the elevator lobby.

I wasn't serious, you know, Ian said softly to Francine as she stepped into his arms.

I should hope not. Amanda I could understand, but not caring if Lee or Billy – 

No, not Amanda. If there is anyone in my bed when I wake up, he checked his watch and groaned, later this morning, it had better be you. He kissed her forehead.

Francine cupped his cheek in her hand. It will be.

Nothing further was said as they went to his assigned room, closing the door firmly behind them.

  
  


**Lee and Amanda's Room, The Holy Land Hotel * 3:30 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


You know it's been a tough day, Lee quipped with a little more energy than he really felt, when I can stand in a steamy, soapy shower with my wife and want nothing more than to fall into bed and go to sleep.

I know the feeling, Amanda grinned back at him, the strains of the past 29 hours showing clearly. Neither had been heartened or amused to figure out that with time zones, the hell they had been living wasn't even a day and a half long yet. It felt like centuries – and by the time it was over later in the day, it just might feel like millennia, or, God forbid, eternity.

Of course, I'd sleep better with her in my arms.

They kissed slowly as the hot water beat the stresses and anxieties to a dull ache; a few minutes later as they lay in bed together, cuddled close as always, Lee felt one silent sob wrack Amanda's slender body before she drifted into sleep. Before too long, he too, faded into dream-filled slumber that was surprisingly free of nightmares, under the circumstances.

  
  


**Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 7:46 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Jamie, wake up, Marlena's little voice, angelic and pure, sounded in the boy's ear.

he growled without lifting his head from the small, straw-filled pillow that kept his head from resting on the dirt floor.

Mommy says.

Aw, Mom, do I have too?

Joanna spoke next to him. Yes, Jamie, I'm afraid you have to. We need to talk before they come down to start whatever their next part of this is.

Reluctantly, Jamie stretched and sat up, rubbing his eyes carefully and hoping that his contacts were causing no permanent harm for being in for so long. He couldn't even guess how long. Okay, I'm awake.

Hug time, Marlena announced, dropping into his lap suddenly and throwing her arms around him. The ever-present stuffed bunny hit him on the head as she fumbled to find his neck; he laughed at the little girl's spirit and unconditional love shining through even in this awful darkness.

Jamie, I have no idea what might happen today. We both have to be very aware of everything around us, because we may get only one chance to get out.

He nodded; this may not be like the movies, exactly, but even the movies and television had to get it right sometimes, even by accident. 

She sighed and draped her arm around the boy's shoulder, drawing strength from his youth and giving wisdom to his naivety. If I give you the signal to go, you take Marlena and you run like you've never run in your life. I think you'll know where to run to if it happens.

But what about you? I can't lea – 

Jamie, no arguments. Consider this an order. I can take care of myself if I don't have to worry about you and Marlena. I know I can trust you to take care of Marlena. Joanna was taking a calculated risk, but she knew that there was no way she could get both kids out if the opportunity arose. It would have to be Jamie with Marlena, and trust her life to God to get her out, too.

Jamie seemed to sense that. He looked at her with his red, puffy, brown eyes and nodded solemnly. I promise.

And you, monkey, she said to her daughter, ruffling the girl's hair as she lay against Jamie's chest, thumb securely back in her mouth, are to do whatever Jamie tells you to do with no arguments and no crying. Do you understand me, young lady?

Seeing the seriousness of her mother's expression, Marlena took her thumb out of her mouth to respond. Yes, Mommy. Do what Jamie say.

Joanna turned and spread her other arm out, wrapping both children in a tight embrace that lasted for a very long time.

  
  


**Ian's Room, The Holy Land Hotel * 8:40 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


Francine watched Ian as he moved quietly about the room, setting out his clothes and shower gear, ordering coffee and juice from room service, moving with cat-like grace in his t-shirt and boxers. She decided that waking up to that every morning would be very close to heaven on earth, and decided to let him know that. Hey, Mr. Macho Marine, she said throatily as she sat up.

He turned to see her disheveled blonde hair hanging in her eyes and her well-kept figure outlined neatly by the t-shirt he had loaned her for the night. She had never been more beautiful. Ms. Sex Super Spy, he answered.

You're gorgeous, you know that?

He seemed genuinely surprised to hear her say that. Uh, thank you. I have no words to say what a vision you are.

She ran her fingers through her hair self-consciously. I'm sure I look horrible.

None of that. Never in my presence are you to say such things, Francine Desmond, he admonished. You are beautiful beyond words inside and out, and if I have my way, I'm going to spend every day of the rest of my life convincing you of that. He looked up suddenly, afraid that his words would scare her.

Instead, she scrambled out of the bed and ran across the room into his arms. I'll settle for today, she murmured happily against his neck before she kissed him. Breathlessly a moment later, she finished the thought. And leave tomorrow for itself.

Ian looked down into her azure eyes. Do you know how tempting it is to ask you to...

She returned the frank gaze, loving the blackest brown color of his expressive eyes. Yes. And if you ask me, I'll give you an answer neither of us is ready for.

He laughed, a rich, lively sound that stayed in her soul, lifting it up despite the heavy task of the day ahead. I love you, he said simply, and let her go, moving the three steps into the bathroom before she could answer.

I love you, Ian, she whispered to the closed door, unexpected tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks. Oh, I love you.

  
  


**On the Road to Tel Aviv, Israel * 9:50 a.m. (GMT+2)**

  
  


All in all, Andy Forest reflected, it had not been a bad night. Traffic had been very light, and as with America people were not eager to stop at night to see what might be wrong when a car was pulled over on the side of the road. At 7:45, the first driver had stopped; as luck would have it, the car was headed toward Tel Aviv. So Andy hitched a ride, hoping the driver would let him off within reasonable walking distance of the Holy Land Hotel, where all his clothes were – and hopefully, where his friends were just now awakening after a long night, some of them cleaning and decontaminating, others strategizing. Except the one most important to him, but he closed his mind to those thoughts until later, when he could be alone, or could be with her, and never mind the questions that kept screaming for answers from her..

It would serve him right, he mused as the driver turned down the main road that led to downtown and the hotel, if Ian and Lee purposely made him stay behind for any rescue mission, taking another trained CBW specialist instead. He certainly had not proved himself trustworthy last night, and indeed, he reluctantly acknowledged, had he succeeded, he might very well have cost his most precious loved ones their lives.

The driver let him off five short blocks from the hotel; in the brisk wintry sea air, the walk revived his hopes as nothing else had. Entering the hotel, he met Amanda and Lee on their way to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Amanda hugged him; Lee's handshake was warm and the smile broad on the agent's face when Lee welcomed Andy to join them. He was among friends – real friends.

Billy was already at a table; his waiter added three place settings when Billy beckoned for the new arrivals to join him. Well, I see you've returned to your senses, the older man said, shaking Andy's hand as he motioned to the place to his right.

Yes, Mr. Melrose, I have. I was pretty stupid last night, and I apologize.

Accepted. For what it's worth, Ian chewed Dr. Smyth up one side and down the other after you left. I would love to have seen that in Washington.

The four laughed, a good start to a fateful day. Shortly after three additional cups of coffee arrived on the table, Ian and Francine appeared in the entryway. They spent a quick moment searching before they found Billy and the others.

Two more place settings appeared, more coffee came, and Andy told them with great self-deprecation about his night in the desert. No one made mention of the second pair of carefully intertwined hands on the table, although Ian did get a satisfied nod from Billy and a subtle thumbs up from Andy. Neither did anyone make mention of the events looming over the rest of the day.


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER:** The AGENCY and all the usual suspects of it and of the King-Stetson family aren't mine; I borrowed them with love from Warner Brothers and from Shoot the Moon and thank them kindly for the years of enjoyment I've received from them. Everything else is a product of my overactive imagination; please don't use the ideas or characters without asking me first.

**ARCHIVING INFORMATION:** fanfiction.net; others please ask.

**Author's note: **Thanks to ptamom on the Pax-TV SMK forum for part of the tag idea. And thank you to all the readers who have been so gracious with their support and encouragement. I hope I have not disappointed!

  


**Chapter 12 * Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 12:20 p.m. (GMT+2)**

  


****Ninety minutes before, Billy Melrose and his people, along with a 12-man team from Israeli Special Forces, stood on the tarmac at David Ben Gurion Airport outside Tel Aviv. This was the final briefing before they boarded their troop transport helicopter for Lebanon.

Okay, people, you know this is a quick and dirty in and out mission. Ideally, we get the kidnappers alive, but I'm not particularly picky about that and neither is the President nor the Prime Minister. Dr. Forest is along in case they decide to meet us with any nastiness of the chemical or biological kind, and that is _all_ he is here for He stays in the helicopter unless we need him. Colonel Marlowe, Francine, you're primary. Lee and I will be secondary, and Amanda, you're the communications lead. We want them back in friendly territory by 2 p.m., Billy instructed.

Morning shows, Ian whispered to Andy. Done it before.

Let's move. The Agency section chief's tone brooked no disagreement, and the agents and their support team climbed into the chopper without further conversation.

Awaiting the rescue force at their staging area had been two nondescript, battered vans bearing the familiar logo of the Lebanese Travel Society, the only remaining tour company in the strife-ridden, embattled country. The presence of the vans would raise little suspicion, but only one van would enter the village at first.

Ian and Francine, posing most adequately as newlyweds on their honey moon, approached the home of the village leader to ask permission to take pictures. Much to everyone's surprise, Jikar Qitani/Birol himself answered the door.

May I help you? the number 4 terrorist on Interpol's Most Wanted List asked pleasantly in heavily accented English.

The voice in Francine's ear said, It's a match, guys. I'm sure it's the same voice as on the tapes. Keep him talking.

Ian began as they had rehearsed. I understand that we must ask permission of you to take pictures in your village.

Yes, that is true. You would like this permission?

Francine nodded and tried her best imitation of an Amandaramble. Oh, yes, we would, you see, we're on out honeymoon and we both studied Anthropology in college and this is fascinating for the cultural knowledge and experience we can take back to our students in the high school and oh, please, you just have to let us do this!

In the second van, Amanda rolled her eyes at Andy and mouthed, Oh, please.

Andy just laughed.

I think that I could allow you to do this. Are you the only ones in your party?

Amanda's oscilloscope flashed its matched sequence lights at her. That's it, it's him.

No, we aren't, Francine answered Quitani. There are four others. These were part of the Israeli squad.

Then the fee will be $300 American. In cash.

Does that include a tour of the inside of a home, say your beautiful house? Ian asked innocently.

Quitani appeared to mull that over. For an extra $100 American.

Francine and Ian beamed at him. Well, that's just splendid, she said happily, taking out her traveler's wallet to pay the innocuous looking man in the doorway.

Qitani took the proffered bills with a smug Thank you, then led the couple back to the tour company van. He told the men in the van where they could take pictures and promised the whole group a tour of his house in 10 minutes – I need to make sure my family is, how do you say it? - Spic and Span for the occasion.

The promised 10 minutes was more like 25, but during the wait, Francine, Ian, and the Israelis wandered the village, talking loudly in hopes of alerting Joanna and Jamie to their presence – if, indeed, Joanna, Jamie, and Marlena were in the village.

Ian, this reminds me of the hills outside Santa Fe! Francine shouted from an area close to the back of Quitani's house.

Ian grimaced, knowing that it was all part of the game but thinking that Lebanon looked nothing like any part of New Mexico he had ever seen. I think you're right, honey! he shouted in response. Make sure you get lots of pictures for Gina Carvel! Gina Carvel had been a classmate of Ian and Joanna's in high school.

And Harry Whitman will love the architecture! Francine played the game with a name from their training class. Don't forget that Allen Harbinson wants pictures of the animals for his biology classification project files. Allen the Amazing of magic show fame.

They moved around the little village, commenting about this friend and that friend, sometimes interrupted by the soldiers with false leads, just in case anyone had suspicions. Finally, Qitani came out to the lane and invited them into his home.

I have modernized greatly, he said proudly, showing off his very American bathrooms and the kitchen straight out of _Better Homes and Gardens_. The whole village enjoys these facilities on special occasions. I made sure I bought a high capacity hot water heater just for that purpose, he added with a benevolent laugh. I also have a mushroom garden in the basement, but it is flooded right now.

BASEMENT!

We heard, Francine, Amanda's voice whispered in her ear.

  


*** * * * * **

  


In that basement, where the dirt floor was dusty dry, Joanna and Jamie looked at each other with wide eyes and closed mouths. Jamie's hand was over Marlena's mouth, lest she scream out as she had once already for Even instructions to be quiet had not kept the three-year old from continuing to talk, and under the circumstances, Joanna felt it wiser to prevent her from talking altogether.

We have to be ready, the adult whispered to the teen. I don't know what their plan is and I don't know how many armed guards there may be. But you remember what I said earlier – if you get the chance, take Marlena and get to safety.

I remember. But you be careful, too.

I will.

The resumed their silent vigil, trying to keep up hope as the familiar voices of Ian and Francine faded and the footsteps receded and finally stopped.

  


*** * * * ***

  


Qitani led the tour group of six to their van and watched them drive off over the hill toward Beirut. He was now $400 richer, which was a small drop in the bucket compared to the money he earned from his less legal activities, but it would go toward the village communal fund, helping to tide the residents over a while longer during this interminable non-war that left the entire country bereft of most tourism and all international aid.

He went back into the house and tramped down the stairs to the basement. His captives were restless, as he expected. It would be time to begin the true torture soon, broadcast to the world via the marvels of satellite technology.

  


*** * * * ***

  


Ian, Francine, and the 4 other donned their camouflage assault gear as they briefed the others back at the second van. The assault gear and all the equipment bore Syrian Army markings. The plan, as concrete as it could be under the circumstances, was to get the civilians corralled away from Qitani's house under the guise of a search for illegal communications, then to storm the house in search of the captives. No one was thrilled with it, but it was the best they could do; knowing that, the short return drive to the village was quiet.

Amanda and Francine held back with Billy and Lee as the 12 Israelis and Ian, whose darker complexion allowed him to blend in, walked through the hamlet, gathering its citizens in its second largest home – really, an enlarged hovel – and assured their silence with the promise of money and assistance from the military to build better homes. Only when the entire population of the village, minus Qitani's staff and presumed family, were safely ensconced inside did the Agency team exit the van, moving quickly across the middle of the village to Qitani's home.

Billy, Amanda, and Ian covered the front door with six of the Israelis while Francine and Lee covered the back exits with the others. At precisely 12:20, all three doors flew down with Arabic shouts to and THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS.

Of course, neither happened. Automatic gunfire spat from the hallways and from behind half-open doors as the assault teams moved in. One soldier with Lee went down with a leg wound, but he rolled behind a low sofa in the parlor and laid covering fire for his team members. Francine pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and tossed it toward the basement stairs, hoping the door was closed so none of the noxious stuff would hurt the captives.

Billy came face to face with a snarling man wielding a long, sharp knife; only the quickest twist and dive to the floor kept the American from a fatal wound to the chest or abdomen. Ian dropped the man with a swift disabling kick to the mid-section, followed by a hard chop to the neck that left him insensate.

Tie him up, Amanda, Billy ordered. I'll cover.

Yes, sir! The former housewife now top agent dropped to her knees and made fast work of the job, not even realizing that she now tied the Killick Hitch without a second thought. He's secured, sir!! She picked up her pistol and beckoned to her boss.

They made their way into the kitchen, where they met Lee and Francine.

Billy asked.

Don't know, Francine growled. My guess is downstairs, which puts us at a significant disadvantage.

Yes. Ideas?

Ian spoke up. I think we should send a team back outside. Qitani strikes me as the type who might have a secret exit from the basement just in case. And I think we should put the chopper in the air for recon, too – he might have back up.

Billy considered the Marine's ideas; receiving a confirming nod from the commanding Israeli, he sent a protesting Amanda back to the communications van with the wounded man, two live prisoners, and three other soldiers. The others he split into two teams, keeping Lee with him and sending Francine with Ian and four men to cover the outside again.

Billy led the way down the basement stairs, his hope being that his dark skin would remain unnoticed longer that the lighter tones of his team members. The basement was dimly lit, the only source of light a crevice of light that went nearly ceiling to floor at the far end. When the team was all at the bottom, Billy nudged Lee to have him turn on his halogen light, shining it away from the team into the deep gray of the dusty space.

No one responded to the sudden light, and a moment later, when eyes had adapted to the brightness, the team found that the room was empty. Billy informed Ian and Francine via radio; Lee and two soldiers crept carefully toward the crack of light at the end. In silent coordination, one soldier pulled the door open as Lee dropped low and the other soldier stood high, pointing their assault rifles into an empty, dimly lit tunnel.

He's out! Billy shouted into his radio. He had a bolt hole here in the basement!

Copy that! Amanda and Francine answered simultaneously.

Amanda continued, the chopper pilot says he has a biege van moving out across the pasture land just west of the village. He's headed for what looks like an old barn about four miles south west of here.

Tell him to stay with it. Ian, get your team to the communications van and get as many as you can into it. The rest of us are on the way.

Six pumped men scrambled up the stairs and out of Qitani's house, tumbling into the second van only a couple of moments after the first van roared away toward the barn. Amanda relayed the choper pilot's directions to Lee as the two vans bounced across recently cropped pastureland.

Billy and Lee heard the distinctive sounds of an Uzi as they lost sight of the communications van behind a rise. No one on their side carried an Uzi.

Lee asked incredulously.

Or he wasn't alone, Billy replied ominously.

Billy proved right; they passed the still twitching body of a well-armed, traditionally dressed man at the bottom of the hill. This is such an ugly business, one of the soldiers muttered, prefacing his short prayer with a truth unchanged since time began.

The chopper pilot informed the them that the barn was over the next rise; Ian stopped the lead van to allow the rest of the team to catch up. Rifle fire sounded as someone on the other side of the hill shot at the helicopter, but that didn't stop the team from huddling for a very brief strategy session.

We still don't know if he really has the hostages, Billy reminded them. But we have to go in assuming that he does. I want a cordon of six around the chopper – including our casualty and you and Amanda, Lee. Lee has command of that team. Ian will lead the frontal assault group of five – Francine and four of you all, he said, nodding toward the Israeli commander. I will lead the rear assault group. Get the hostages to the chopper as fast as you can and get the chopper off the ground if needed. He turned to Amanda. See what he knows about positions.

Amanda raised the pilot, who reported that Qitani's barn was defended by about 8 armed men and a large caliber machine gun pit hidden in a grove of trees. he said, it looks like there may be just enough ground cleared for a very small plane – one that would seat 4 uncomfortably.

We take out the plane if he has one, too. We go in three, so move out.

Qitani may have had men defending his barn, but they were not professionals. Only the occasional shot at the helicopter broke the silence as the teams moved into place; just as they reached position, Ian spotted an unmistakable flash of cinnamon-colored hair and reported back to Amanda and Billy. They're here – or at least Jo is. I haven't seen Jamie or Marlena yet.

Copy that, Billy and Amanda said, one after the other.

Five, four, three, two, one, go! Amanda counted down.

The chopper landed two hundred yards from the barn out of range of the machine gun. Lee led his crew to a defensive perimeter around the big machine as all hell broke lose on the grounds of the barn. Billy's team immediately engaged three armed defenders in a heavy fire fight as the professionals moved forward. Ian split his team into two smaller forces and sent one after the killer gun at the edge of the dirt yard. The other he led toward the knot of shooters surrounding Qitani, toward the place he saw Jo's hair.

One by one, the defenders dropped, allowing the rescuer to approach each other. Billy saw Jamie from behind just as the boy hefted something – or someone, Billy realized – to his shoulder and took off for the helicopter. Billy's team automatically turned and harassed the men most endangering the escapees with their rifle fire as Billy notified Amanda. He watched with mingled fear and pride as Lee ran out into the potential field of fire to gather both Jamie and Marlena into his arms and scuttled back to the helicopter. He smiled as Andy Forest leapt out and swept Marlena out of Lee's arms, holding her fiercely and allowing the tears to fall freely as the little girl covered his face with kisses.

They're safe, sir! Amanda shouted through the radio. I can see Joanna. Ian, she's fifty yards to your right between Qitani and another man.

Roger that, Amanda! Ian motioned his team to spread out as they moved forward, carefully avoiding the three people Amanda mentioned as they returned fire to the few remaining defenders. The last one, save Qitani, Jo, and the unknown third man, fell, wounded in one leg and both arms.

Qitani yelled, brandishing his Uzi around the field. I will not be taken alive, and you will not get this one back.

The other man stepped out into full view. Beside Ian, Francine inhaled sharply. That's the Iraqi! The one who worked with the German-Iranian, she whispered excitedly.

Great. We've almost got a full circle. Meanwhile, what do we do about – 

Joanna answered the question for them. In one smooth, swift motion, she spun around on one foot, planting the other squarely in the Iraqi's groin. Her hands were tied together in front of her, but she made effective use of the extra power by bringing her hands up under the man's chin, sending him flying onto his back with a satisfying THUD that alerted Qitani to his danger.

He turned, moving his Uzi into firing position just as Joanna's legs came scissoring at him in a beautifully executed one-two move. Her right foot cut him across the cheek; her left snapped his head back, dropping him unconscious to the ground. But as he fell, his fingers brushed the hair-trigger of the machine gun, sending a spray of bullets into the still moving body of his former captive. Joanna's body crumpled to the ground on top of her captor.

A tiny voice cried in the bright sunlight. 

  


**En Route to Washington, D.C. * January 29, 1989 * 5:00 p.m. (GMT)**

  


Ian sat beside Andy Forest in the Concorde's first section, knowing that the man's thoughts were not with the conversation flowing around them but with the comatose woman riding in the back of the plane. Joanna was receiving as close to Intensive Care quality attention as one could while traversing the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.

Only one of the thirteen bullets Qitani's Uzi pumped into her remained, that one lodged so close to her spine that that the choices were stark. She could have the necessary surgery in Israel, but even their best surgeons could give her only a 75% chance of survival. Or, given that a good portion of the CBW team was headed back to the United States on the Concorde, if her condition stabilized and if the family agreed, the doctors would send her back to the States – and they gave her a 75% chance of surviving that journey. Ian and her parents talked at length by phone and graciously allowed Andy to participate in the discussions, as well, each of them understanding that he was very much in love with Joanna and she with him. The four decided unanimously that the odds were worth the journey. If she survived the trip, the best surgeons in the world could give her a 30% chance of walking again using an experimental technique only allowed at Johns Hopkins University. 

Jamie and Marlena had been inseparable after the first few hours of freedom. When Lee, Ian, and Andy expressed initial concerns about the clinging, Amanda reassured them. They have a relationship that was forged in fire; Jamie helped Marlena get through it and now her mother isn't here to give her another anchor. Just let them be – and help Jamie out if he wants to be alone or to talk without Marlena at any point. Only Jamie had been able to get the girl to eat or to sleep for the first day; Ian had been successful this morning only after he reluctantly obeyed her imperious order to take her to see her mommy in the back of the plane. The teen and the toddler now sat together between Lee and Amanda, both sleeping quietly. 

Billy slept in the row ahead of Ian and Andy; Francine sat in the back with Joanna. The other members of the CBW team slept or read, relieved to be resting after 4 days of intense work. The total casualty count had been 66 killed, including 29 Palestinians unfortunate enough to inhale the land-killing chemicals dropped over the West Bank village, and over 460 injured, about a third of whom would suffer long-term health problems. An area of about 10 square miles around that village would be uninhabitable for at least a generation. The saving grace was that the tanks at the Holy Land Hotel had not been properly temperature controlled; the _Botulinum A_ had been dead when it was sprayed over the food and thus caused no problems for anyone.

Perhaps, Ian mused, Uncle Smyth had known what he was talking about when he christened this Operation Haman. The bad guys got their share. But something niggled at the Marine; after a half an hour of frustrated thought, he reached into his carry-on and pulled out his well-thumbed Bible. Opening to the Book of Esther, he found the passage that had troubled him. By these letters, the king allowed the Jews who were in every city to assemble and defend their lives... The king had not been able to stop the armies of Haman, but had allowed the Jews to defend themselves. It gave Ian a little comfort to know that they, too, had been able to defend, at least a little bit, and that the Pur – the lot – that had been cast by the terrorists had been recast in favor of the State of Israel and of justice.

  


**The White House Situation Room * February 3, 1989 * 12:30 p.m. EST (GMT-2)**

  


So, Austin, I hear that you've been convinced to change the official name of Operation Haman' to Operation Esther'.

Yes, sir, Mr. President.

Austin Smyth smiled around his new cigarette holder. Well, sir, my nephew can be very persuasive.

How did he do that?

Ian pointed out that most of the breakthroughs came from women, specifically Mrs. Stetson and Ms. Desmond – who, by the way, will probably be my niece by marriage at some point in the future. He also pointed out that Haman was the bad guy and noted that Esther didn't stop the killing forces. She just enabled the targets to defend themselves.

The President chuckled. Austin, I'm surprised at you. You didn't know Haman was the bad guy?

I do now. He joined the leader of the free world in laughter.

  


**Frankfurt, West Germany * February 10, 1989 * 3:00 p.m. (GMT+1)**

  


Gerhardt Volkmann, you are under arrest for trafficking in illegal arms, for sponsoring state terrorism in a foreign country, and for the murder of 66 men, women, and children. The State of Israel has requested extradition on these charges. How do you plead? the magistrate intoned sonorously from the high bench in his courtroom.

Not guilty, the man sneered, his swarthy face clenched in anger and hatred. It is not murder to kill Je – 

Silence him, the judge ordered. I hereby grant the writ of extradition for Gerhardt Volkmann and remand him to the custody of the Army of the State of Israel for prosecution on the outlined charges. Dismissed.

  


**Tag * Walter Reed Army Hospital * February 13, 1989 * 11:45 a.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  


  


Andy Forest paced the hall outside Joanna's private room nervously, waiting for the doctor to come out. She was awake! Finally, 12 days after the fifteen hour surgery, she had come out of the coma. Now, two hours later, he could hear the doctor giving her instructions in a very happy voice. He needed to know – would she walk again? Hold her daughter in her arms, cuddle with him as he hoped she wanted to?

The doctor came out an interminable while later and pumped Andy's hand. I don't know how or why, the man said with a huge grin, but it all worked. She's got full feeling and control of her lower limbs, and although there are naturally some gaps in her memory, her mental faculties seem to be otherwise in tact. She's resting now. You can see her briefly – and if she's up to it later, you can spend a longer time with her.

Andy bolted away from the surgeon with barely a word of dismissal. He stopped himself from throwing open the door to the room, instead gently pushing it away in front of himself as he walked through. Good morning, beautiful, he said softly, brushing a tear away from his eye.

Good morning yourself, handsome, she replied just as quietly, reaching out her hands weakly to him.

He took her hands, marvelled at them for a moment. I can't stay long. But I can come back later if I'm a good boy.

He was rewarded with her brilliant smile, although the effort cost her and it faded quickly. I hope you've been good.

Not really, he shrugged sheepishly. Amanda has kept me out of a lot of trouble. But I'll tell you all about that later. Right now, I need to tell you one very important thing.

What's that? Her emerald eyes lit up.

I love you, he said, and leaned in to touch his lips briefly to hers. He was surprised that there was a little life in her return kiss, but again exercised enough control to stop himself from doing what he really wanted to do. I'll be back later. You sleep now – all afternoon. I'll probably have several people with me.

  


**7:05 p.m. EST (GMT-5)**

  


Andy had not been kidding. He actually brought an army with him.

Ian and Francine came, enjoying their last few days together on vacation before he went back to his assigned post in California. They both glowed, happy in love and content to let their relationship mature over time. Both were proud of themselves that, although sorely tempted, they had managed to keep their relationship from sliding into the purely physical; it was unexplored territory for each of them and to be travelling through it together made their blossoming emotional ties that much stronger.

Billy and Jeannie stopped in briefly, bearing an enormous bouquet for Marlena's Mother from the entire weekend watch staff of the Agency. The head of the SPSA was with them; he stayed just long enough to apologize to Andy for the subterfuge and to remind Joanna that she still had a job to do whenever she was ready to come back.

When the King-Stetson clan came in, the room suddenly seemed far too small. Joe and Carrie came in to say Thank you to everyone for rescuing Jamie, but especially to Joanna, about whom Jamie had said incredible things in the course of his debrief and counseling. Dottie West said simply that Joanna, Marlena, and Andy should consider themselves adopted before she led a dumbstruck Philip back to the waiting area.

Marlena and Jamie had finally managed, after much counseling and love from the adults in their lives, to separate somewhat. Tonight, though, Marlena seemed perfectly content to ride piggyback on the teen until Uncle Ian pointed out that maybe Mommy needed a very careful hug. Jamie set her down on Joanna's bed; several people wiped away tears as the mother and daughter hugged for the first time since that awful day in Lebanon.

I hope you don't mind, Miss Marley, Jamie began, but can I give you a hug, too? He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose; the optometrist had ordered him to wear his contacts only in school for the time being after the multi-day beating his eyes had taken in Lebanon.

Of course you can, Jamie. She let him lean over her, then pulled him close with a weak squeeze and kissed his cheek. I hear my girl is gonna be okay because of you.

He stood up straight and shrugged, looking away from her toward his mother. I guess.

Joanna smiled and tugged at his hand until he looked back at her. Thank you.

Jamie King flushed and fled, overwhelmed by something. Amanda knew; he would go through much of what she had after Adi Birol captured her before he would be again. As hard as it was, she stayed where she was, knowing that Jamie would go where he needed to, either to Dottie or to Joe, or perhaps to be by himself for a little while.

So, somebody tell me what's happened, Joanna demanded of the five adults remaining.

They took turns telling her about the developments in the case, until it was left to Amanda to tell her the last bit of news. Andy took great pleasure in telling Aran Birol that your husband had killed his son Caliph. Aran had a heart attack later that night and died in an Israeli hospital yesterday.

Joanna looked at Andy, startled at the fact that he now knew. I guess we have a lot to talk about.

Yes, _Doctor_, we do.

Someone had spilled that, too.

The door opened slowly. 

All heads turned at the unmistakable voice of Austin Smyth. It's okay, Uncle Austin. Come on in, Ian said. 

That startled Joanna even more. To her unspoken question, Dr. Smyth announced, It occurred to me that perhaps I had better start making up with my family before any more of them go off and get themselves kidnapped and nearly killed, he said with forced jocularity as he entered the room, each arm bearing a picnic basket. Although if you want to know the truth, I just wanted to do something that I knew would make you happy. His face softened into a smile, one noticeably absent the cigarette holder.

What's in the baskets, Dr. Smyth? Lee asked, his curiosity piqued.

Why, goodies, of course. It's tradition to end Purim with gifts, so I thought we should celebrate the happy ending to Operation Esther the same way.

Knowing better than to question their good fortune, the group made room for one more person around Joanna's bed as Dr. Smyth kissed first his grand-niece, then, with real feeling and a softly spoken apology, his niece.

Ten minutes later, the doctor came by and kicked everyone out, warning them that if his patient suffered a relapse, he would bar visitors altogether. The party broke up as Dr. Smyth handed out the contents of the baskets – cookies, cakes, and pies – to the couples in the room, promising to see the rest of Lee and Amanda's family on the way out.

Ian kissed Joanna briefly on the lips as he and Francine said their good-byes. Thank you, he said under his breath.

For what?

For her, he replied, pointing with his chin toward Francine.

You're welcome, Jo replied with a grin.

Marlena asked Uncle Ian to take her out with him, so he lifted the light body and carried her out under one arm, loving the delighted giggle that no one had heard since the day of her party three weeks ago.

He amazes me, Amanda said while Lee helped her with her coat.

Andy asked from beside Joanna's bed.

Dr. Smyth. Now I'm going to have to see him as a human being.

Joanna said with a dim twinkle, I've started to think of him as the model for Commander Data.

Lee laughed; he and the boys watched _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ every week, but Amanda had not gotten into it with them. I'll explain it on the way home, honey. Good night, you two. We love you.

It's mutual, Joanna assured him as he kissed her cheek. Thanks for taking care of my baby.

It was our pleasure, Amanda assured her. Like Mother said, consider yourselves family.

Alone with Andy, Joanna dozed for a few minutes. When she woke, she looked up at him with a smile. I know that the Purim tradition of _ Mishloach manot_ is about food, she said, but I think _love_ was the real gift this year.

I think Ian and I can agree with you on that, Andy Forest answered, and leaned in to kiss the woman he loved.

  


_The End_


End file.
